Page 32 of Everything We Give

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.” She buried her face in her hands, took a couple of deep breaths, and folded her hands under her chin. Her mouth pulled into a little smile. “What are you doing today?”

Ian looked out the window. Cotton-white clouds mottled the blue sky. “I’m going on a photo expedition.”

“You are?” she replied with exaggerated interest.

“Wanna come with me?” She could use a day in the sun. She’d been hiding in the house all week, burrowed under blankets like a rabbit in the brush.

His mom stood and took her teacup to the sink. “Invite Marshall. He’ll go with you.”

“Nah.” Ian didn’t want to invite his neighbor. He didn’t want any friends over.

“Why not? You haven’t had him over in a long time.”

Ian didn’t want to risk the chance his mom went Wacky-Jackie in front of his friends.

He could go to Marshall’s house instead, but then he’d worry about his mom. His dad wanted him to stay at Marshall’s when he was out of town. He even asked Mrs.Killion to keep an eye on him. But if Ian left home, there wouldn’t be anyone to watch his mom until his dad returned.

“Marshall’s busy today.”

His mom frowned. “Are you two getting along?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. I don’t want him to come over here, that’s all.”

“Oh.” She studied her hands, then crossed her arms, hiding her unkempt nails.

“I didn’t mean ... What I meant was ...” Ian rubbed his hand through his mop of hair, looking at his bare feet. “I want you to come with me,” he said in a small voice.

Ian could feel his mom watching him so he lifted his head.

She smiled. “All right. I’ll come.”

Fifteen minutes later they were dressed and walking in the direction of the duck pond near the western property line. The air smelled of fertilized dirt and dry grass. A field mouse scurried past.

Ian stopped and motioned for his mom to be quiet. “He’ll be back.” He lay in the dirt, leaning on his elbows with the camera poised near his face, and waited.

His mom eased to the ground beside him. Within moments, the brownish-gray mouse peered from under a bush and raced by, disappearing into the tall grass. Blades shimmied in the sunlight, tracking his path. They watched the mouse circle around until he shot past them, grass blades and needle-size twigs in his mouth. He scurried under the bush.

“What’s he doing?” she whispered.

“Fixing his nest, I think.”

The mouse returned, pausing in his trek to scrub his nose. The camera shutter snapped. His mom flinched and the mouse ran off.

“Got him.” Ian jumped to his feet and dusted off the dirt on his shirt and shorts.

They continued walking, past the white ash tree. His mom snapped off a twig. She twirled it in her fingers. “Do you still want to be a photographer when you grow up?”

Ian had wanted to be a photographer since the day his dad bought him his first real camera on his fifth birthday and showed him how to use it. He also taught him how to develop film. Ian treasured those hours they stood side by side in the darkroom.

“Yes, but I don’t want to do football games like Dad. I want to travel the world and take pictures of everyone I meet.” Aside from accompanying his dad on a few trips, Ian hadn’t journeyed outside Idaho. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” he asked his mom.

“That’s easy. Paris.”

Ian grinned. “Me, too.”

“I’m sure you will one day.”

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