Photographs
Kristian Campana
H e flipped through the pictures of Gloria and him during one of their downtown adventures, cuddling on a bench in Victory Park, embracing in the Cedar Lee Theater after he gave her a diamond necklace, and kissing in the back of the Gingerheen Gallery when they thought they were alone. The candid photographs were professionally done and he wished he knew who the photographer was for more than the fact that the glossy black and whites made him look younger and thinner than he actually was.
He had just gotten back from Gloria's a few minutes ago and wanted to go back to her immediately. Perhaps he would call her, but he couldn't do it just yet. That would be totally out of line. Yet his eyes still glanced toward the phone and then at the clock. He needed her now more than ever and he regretted leaving her place as she laid naked in her bed, begging him to stay for just a little longer.
But he hopefully only had to wait a couple of minutes more before he could call.
"You like those, asshole?" his wife snorted at the door with the last of her things.
He couldn't answer her. His eyes went from her to the phone and then back to the photographs, studying his gleaming frozen face while sharing a sundae with Gloria.
His wife opened the door and stared at him. "Well? Say something!"
He placed the photographs on the table and only waited. Without looking at her, he could hear her sniffling back tears of hurt from his betrayal. Something she said was muffled and he didn't catch it. He only heard the door slam and the car leave the driveway, tires screeching down the street.
He paged through the photographs again, still wishing he knew the photographer, and started to dial Gloria's number.



First published: February 1998
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