The viewfinder goes black, as the picture takes. Dennis’s breath catches in his throat. He’s committed now.
Could he truly shift reality once more?
The results are undeniable. Yes, yes he can. A beaten-up gray compact appears in the driveway, familiar in a way Dennis can’t yet place. In a razor-thin instant, the Laura from seconds ago has changed. Her crop top and shorts remain, but a whole new woman fills them to capacity. Wide lats taper to a narrow waist. Rounded boulder shoulders stretch the shirt to its limits. Hefty, strong, bodybuilder biceps and firm forearms threaten to split the top’s arm stitches. Huge, bulging leg muscles force the shorts to ride high on Laura’s legs.
His mother is strong now, athletic and lean. This new version of Laura takes up space.
She turns, catching his eye through the window. Ponderous cleavage fights for space, pushed upward by a tight bra and strong, supportive chest muscles. Blue eyes glimmer, as a brilliant smile blooms across her face. Long, loping strides carry her to the front door, and she bursts through without a second thought. Dennis hardly has a moment to set the camera aside on a counter top before Laura’s arms wrap around his waist.
“I saw that.” She kisses Dennis once on the lips, quick and confident.
His heart skips a beat, still orienting to the shift. Laura was too… everything for his father to deserve: Too fit, too young, too kind. Dennis finds himself unsure if he deserves her either, in light of today’s events. But still, he’s selfish enough to take the opportunity.
“Saw what now?” He asks.
“The camera. You took a picture of me. Come on, show.”
He thumbs the gallery button, and the picture appears. A thick arm wraps around his chest, as Laura rests her chin on his shoulder. He caught her in profile, a soft smile pulling at the corner of her mouth as she turned back towards the house.
“Cute.” She presses her lips to his cheek. “Send it to me later?”
“Of course.”
“That was your dad, in the other car?” Laura asks.
Dennis nods. “Divorce papers.”
The hand around his waist balls into a fist, then relaxes. She knew this was coming, they all did. But that by no means makes the situation easier.
“Moron.” She whispers.
“I know.” He agrees.
His mother lingers in the hall, oblivious to Dennis and Laura as she leafs through the documents. Her brow furrows, a subtle tick that comes out when she’s trying not to let distress show. He wishes he had the words to say, to make the situation better.
Fortunately where he falls short, Laura fills in the gaps. The arm around his waist vanishes, and she’s crossing the room. Both thick biceps bulge as they wrap around his mother’s waist, lifting her off the ground with an undignified squawk.
“Your fabulous adoptive daughter is here to help unload the dead weight,”
His mother beats an ineffectual fist against Laura’s huge back. “Put me down, you brute.”
“Hugh Brute? Why are we talking about your useless ex-husband?”
Laura bounces her shoulder, and the motion draws a peal of surprised laughter from his mother. Mission accomplished, Laura lowers her back to the floor.
“I noticed someone was moping,” Laura says. “Look at it this way: Today you dropped solid 210 pounds of dead weight. You get those papers signed, and it’s a big, wide world out there just waiting for you. You’re young, you can play the field.”
“Well…” His mother frets at the papers’ edge for a moment. “I did get this today.”
She tucks a hand into her sports bra, and pulls out a crumpled scrap of paper with someone’s phone number written in messy scrawl.
“Attagirl.” Laura says. “Who’s it from?”
“Some stranger at the coffee shop. He saw the book I was reading, and wanted to know more.” Mary blushes at the memory.
“Cute?”
The blush deepens. “It feels strange to talk about this in front of Dennis, like I’m some silly teenager again.”
“How cute was he, Mom?” Dennis smiles encouragingly at her.
She flushes fully scarlet. “Quite. The way he lit up, when he recognized the book cover just...”
Laura claps her on the back. “Text him. Text him.”
One text, eight-four pages of legalese, and three-dozen signatures later, Mary’s phone chimes.
“I’d love to see you again… Would tonight at seven be too soon?” She reads.
“No, it most certainly would not be too soon,” Laura says.
Dennis glances at the clock. “In an hour?”
“Could I even be ready in time?” Mary asks.
“Yes.” Dennis is surprised, as the word bursts forth unbidden from his own mouth. “Go get him, mom.”
“I’ll do it.” She responds to the text.
“I’ve got some tops that might fit the bill in my car.” Laura is up and in motion, door swinging wide. Through the window, the little gray compact is comically undersized as her huge arms begin rummaging through the messy trunk.
“You two are far more excited for this than I am,” Mary says.
Dennis softens, reaching a hand across the table to grasp her wrist. “Whether tonight goes well, or not, we’re just glad to see you excited.”
“Give us ten, Dennis.”
“Are you sure that’s enough time?” His mother asks.
“Shut up. You’re hot, and I work fast,” Laura replies.
The two disappear into the master bedroom, and Dennis is left alone. It’s beautiful, this hasty life he’s built. The memories trickle in as he waits. The camera’s magic has been benevolent, so far. His new, muscular body is all he ever wanted, and nothing he was willing to suffer in the gym to gain. The soft smile as Laura dragged his mother off down the hall had been sorely missing this past year, as the divorce slowly ground her down under the grinding wheels of family court. An ugly, bitter divorce it had been, for seemingly no reason at all. Mom, all too willing to settle, and his father, determined to fight until the bitter end.
Laura, this new woman, summoned from a half-baked thought and a photograph, is the rock holding Dennis together. There’s a rock of guilt, somewhere low in his stomach, and the idea that none of this is real, that the affection she shows is just a product of his imagination.
For now. A product of his imagination for now. He would earn the right to this newfound affection. That was just… in-progress for now.
There’s no mistaking: The magic, whatever fuels it, is dangerous, and must be used with care. Enough with the questionable moral bargains, he would only try for subtle changes from now on. Little nudges, to set things in a better direction. That would be alright, would it not? He looks, unseeing, at the camera on the counter.
Footsteps in the hall pull him back to reality. Laura rounds the corner, smiling with excitement. Mary pokes her head around the corner, nerves tugging at the corners of her smile.
Cute. A cropped long-sleeve sweater stops right below the band of her bra, crimson red and cable-knit. A white, knee-length skirt swishes loosely with each step. Mary’s hair is pinned up into a crown braid, with nothing but mascara on her upper eyelashes to complete the look. If the camera melted away ten years from her in an instant, Laura’s quick makeover had knocked another five away.
Perfect, for a first date.
“It seems a little much…” Mary picks at the bottom hem of the crop-top, hesitant. “Are you sure this isn’t too soon, that you’re okay with this?”
The question gives Dennis pause for a moment, but only the one. “Yeah mom, go knock ‘em dead.”
Laura claps her on the back, supportive.
“Okay, okay.” She steels herself. “There’s casserole in the oven, and twenty minutes on the timer. If you’re still hungry, we have leftover stew in the freezer.”
“You’ll be home tonight?” Dennis takes the role of fretting, nervous dad for the night.
“Yes.” Mary says. “By nine. No, ten at the latest.”
She thinks about it for a moment. “I’ll text you, if things are going well.”
“Good.” Dennis says.
A hand finds the camera.
Subtle changes, indeed.
“A picture for the occasion?” He asks.
This time, he hones in on what he wants for his mother: A happy, stable life. People who care about her. To find confidence, after a bitter divorce. She smiles, strained, for the photo.
The shutter clicks again, and Mary lingers in the door. Dennis ducks in to give her one last hug for support.
“Get out there, and have some fun.” He whispers.
“Don’t burn the house down, while I’m gone.” His mom replies.
“No promises.”
And then she’s off.
“So…” Laura trails off as she fixes him with a predatory gaze. “We have twenty minutes to kill before dinner.”
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