The Photographic Journal

April 30th



         I’m scared to death. The missionaries have returned, but he isn’t with them. I have no idea what this means, and it’s terrifying.

         Okay, let me back up a little bit here. I’m sorry for being scattered as I write this—I’ve never kept any sort of journal before. See, Dad’s always saying that if there’s something on your mind, you should talk to somebody about it. But the truth is I have no one left to talk to. So, after wasting twenty minutes thinking out loud and asking Tyler what I ought to do, I ran down to the stationary store and bought this journal for $1.25. Maybe it’ll help, maybe it won’t. I know I at least have to try.

         Come to think of it, I wonder what Tyler would really say about my keeping a journal?

“You should be a writer,” He used to tell me, “You’re really good at it.”

“I guess,” I’d always reply, “but if you’ve read nearly as many books as I have, then anybody could sound like a pro, right?”

Tyler never saw it that way. “You’ve got a special gift. Think about it--it’s no coincidence that your best class was always English. You were meant to be a writer.” Sure would be nice if he was right.

         See, Tyler’s my best friend. We’ve been together since he moved here when I was eight. My best memories, especially of Dullsvile, New Jersey, have all starred me and Tyler. Okay, so we don’t really live in Dullsville, but I’ll bet that if the name of our town were legally changed to Dullsville, nobody would ever even notice; the people here are that uninteresting. Every single day, these same boring people do the same boring things, day in and day out. Because nothing ever changes and everybody here already knows one another to a certain extent, the day-to-day gossip is rarely worth listening to, unless, of course, you actually enjoy repeating the same conversations about the weather and local politics over and over. That's why all I’ve ever dreamed of is getting out of this miserable town and seeing the world beyond and to actually experience what a life outside has to offer.

         That’s why I started reading. Books have always taken me to far-away places, places that, real or imaginary, I’ve always wanted to visit. They take me out of the emptiness of my existence and make me feel alive.

         But I didn’t always feel this way. See, Tyler is the only person who truly understands me. Together we both shared this dream of getting away. As kids we planned out this whole big scenario—we’d sneak onto a boat (maybe a pirate’s ship, who knows?) and sail across the seven seas. Or we’d get ourselves a hot air balloon and float up, up and away into the clouds. It’s all we ever really wanted, and now, Tyler has it.

         The last time I saw Tyler was last July. We were sitting in the big oak tree out in my yard, making small talk and remembering those childhood fantasies from long ago.

         “When will you be back?” I asked, studying every inch of him, trying to hold onto and savor each moment.

         “I don’t know, two years, maybe? Sometimes it’s earlier, according to what my father said.”

         I sighed, watching a few birds dart across the sky. The cool shade of the tree’s branches felt good on our hot, sweaty skin. “You’re so lucky,” I said. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.  Just think about it! You’ll be traveling across the country and becoming spiritually enlightened! Then you can be a minister like your parents always wanted. The congregation will love you and you’ll live a long, fulfilling life.”

         “Yeah,” He said softly, sadly, even. He began watching the birds as well.

         “I wish I were that lucky,” I went on, “I’ve still got another year of high school to go, then after that, who knows what will happen to me.”

         “That’s easy,” Tyler said, “You’ll live here for the rest of your life, marry Colin Marks down the street, and you’ll probably open up a bookstore here in town.” I laughed softly. He was trying to be funny (especially since Colin has the biggest crush on me), but in reality Tyler had just made light of my biggest fear.

         “Don’t ever change,” I said, “No matter where you go, what you see, or who you meet. I want you to stay like those photographs you always take. Frozen in place, forever, but savoring the good and happy times.”

         “Maxy,” He said, turning to face me, “I can’t promise that I won’t change at all. We’re only human; change is a part of our reality. Instead, I want you to promise me something.”

         “What’s that?”

         “Don’t ever forget me.”

         I felt a lump in my throat. “Never,” my voice cracked. “I swear upon my mother’s grave to never, ever forget you.” I wrapped my arms around him, feeling the tears stream down my face. Tyler didn’t cry, but that was Tyler’s way. He always kept his true feelings under wraps, safely tucked away from the eyes of the rest of the world.



May 1st



         Sorry to just stop writing abruptly yesterday. Reliving that memory made me too upset to even continue. And yet, it made me feel better in a way I can’t explain. I want to keep going.

         See, if it weren’t for my mom, I would never have met Tyler.

         Mom died when I was five, and I hate to say it, but I scarcely remember her.  The only memories I have left are the smell of her sweet and sticky perfume and the colors of the flowers she liked to wear in her hair. She was killed in a car crash, and for a while my brother Dylan and I thought Dad had died with her.

         But when I was eight, a new minister came to town. Now we weren’t exactly the ideal religious family; Mom was a hippie and Dad a self-proclaimed rock star. But we had been told that this guy’s sermons were outrageous, so Dad dragged us down to sit in on one.

         That’s how Dad officially became a Christian. By sheer coincidence, this minister’s sermon for the day was about the importance of healing and during darker days to always put trust in God. So Dad did. You want to know what God told him? He said that Mom would want him to be happy and follow his dream of starting a rock band, letting his music and his prayers lead the way. Dylan joined the band too, and both of them cope with their problems and emotions through music. Honestly though, I’d like to think that what that minister gave me was better than renewed faith. He gave me my best friend.

         See, while my parents were always the “wild” types, Tyler’s parents are incredibly humble people, relishing in their love for God and the world He’s given them. I think that’s why Tyler is the way he is, both in his strengths and weaknesses. Tyler is as close to perfection as I’ve ever seen; he’s kind, intelligent, friendly, and well liked. But I’m one of few who know the real Tyler, the one who feels lost, confused, and afraid. Only I’ve seen the Tyler that feels the same way I do.

         My senior year has been my most depressing since Mom passed, mainly because I’ve spent it all alone. Sure, I have other friends, but I don’t really know them like I know Tyler. We were always inseparable, but since he graduated and left Dullsville, I’m stuck struggling alone without him. Only my books have kept me company. Those same books about wild, exotic adventures now bring me both joy and grief, grief as I wait and wonder what Tyler, his dad, and their traveling band of missionaries are doing now.

         But I don’t have to wonder about the missionaries anymore. That’s part of what’s got me so shook up; Tyler didn’t come home with them. What could have happened to him? How did he get separated? These are all questions I’m afraid of discovering the answers to, and yet, sooner or later I’ll have to learn the truth, whatever it might be.

         But I worry that time  is running out. Dad’s starting to get just as fed up with living in Dullsville as I am. I guess he and the band are bored of performing for the same audience every Friday night, in the same diner, over and over again. The dark, gray cloud of graduation is also ominously starting to  approach, and while I’m ready to get the Hell out of here, I haven’t a clue as to where I’m going to go. Oh God, maybe I really will be stuck here for the rest of my life!



May 4th



          I think I’ve figured out why the missionaries came home without Tyler. Apparently part-way through their journey, Tyler asked to leave the rest of the group and travel on his own. His dad said something about God calling out to him. The last any of them ever saw of Tyler was the day he left with his camera in hand. Oh no, that frightened feeling’s coming back.

         I don’t get it. He told me never to forget him, and yet, he’s gotten up and run off without giving me so much as a second thought. Maybe he lied to me that day, when he said he would be back in two years. Maybe he planned to desert all along. Maybe I really am a worthless person.

But more than anything else, I’m dying to know what’s become of him. God, please don’t let him be dead, I swear that’s my biggest fear of all. After that I wonder if he’s found a place out west, maybe, to live. He’s probably working at some odd-jobs to make a living and has his eye on a big old house with three windows. Or worse, I’ll bet he’s found a pretty girl to live in it with. Or maybe he’s off in Nebraska with this pretty girl of his, lost together in the middle of nowhere, surviving a blizzard. I hope they’re not married yet. Dear God that would be terrible. Then I’d have to marry Colin and stay in this dump for the rest of my miserable existence, without any hope of something better.

I don’t think I’ll manage this way for much longer, never mind the fact that graduation is just around the corner. I haven’t applied to any colleges, and I can just tell already that at this rate, I’ll have to start working full-time at the library or get another part-time job at the stationary store.

Tyler, I hope you’re having yourself a good time, because I’m rotting away into nothing without you.



May 25th



         These past few weeks have brought about some rather conflicting emotions. Funny, actually, that the day I've chosen to write in this journal for the first time in weeks is the day of my senior prom. Senior prom. It's every teenage girl's fantasy, and my worst nightmare.

         Dad said I look nice in this dress. He said I look like Mom. Dylan agreed. Personally, I don't think I look anything like myself. My once unruly mane has been slicked and polished into a fancy up-do, and my invisible female curves are finally making their appearance in this flowery orange dress.  Tyler would have said I looked pretty. Tyler...I wonder where he is now. Las Vegas? Arizona? Guatemala? Okay, so Guatemala isn't actually in the United States, but still, it’s pretty damn far from home. I wonder what he would have said if I invited him to the prom, as a friend, of course. Would he have accepted? I'll never find out for certain. No, thanks to you, Tyler, I have to go to the prom with stupid old Colin Marks. Colin's not a bad guy, but he's boring as Hell and actually likes living here. He told me himself about how he hopes to become mayor or something. How unbearable! Well, since I'm already miserable, I might as well just let old Colin have his night, because clearly I'm not meant to have mine.

         Which brings me to my latest dilemma. Dad and Dylan are officially moving. See, they've finally come to terms with the idea that the band has no hope of survival if they stay here. So they're going to New York City. New York City! I think that's the farthest any of us have ever been from home! And I'm invited to come with them. Dad's got his eye on this fancy apartment and everything. So what's my problem then, you ask? I don't know.

         Something about going to New York doesn't feel right, not without Tyler by my side.

         I don't know if I'm in love with Tyler, but I do know that I can't live without him. If my life means nothing else, then let me be remembered as “Tyler's best friend.”  If I have to stay here forever and ever and never get to see my dream come true, but have Tyler by my side, I think I'd be okay with that. Really, I would.



June 3rd



         Oh my God. Oh my God. I can't believe where the past few days have brought me. I'm in a state of total shock.

         Yesterday when I was home alone watching T.V. and eating leftover Chinese amongst boxes of Dad's and Dylan's stuff, there was a knock at the door. But it was a special knock. It was the sound of somebody banging three times in a fancy sort of way. There's only one person that knocks like that. I knew immediately it was Tyler!

         I bolted and thrust open the door, and low and behold, there he was. He hadn't changed at all since I'd last seen him; sure, his long, muscular arms were tanner, and his hair was longer, but he was the same old Tyler who left last summer. I flung my arms around him and cried tears of joy.

         “I missed you Maxy,” He said, “You look fantastic.” Hardly. I was wearing a band tee-shirt, jeans, and my hair was, of course, a mess. I guess I was right about Tyler. He always thought I was pretty, no matter what slop I was wearing.

         “You don't look too bad yourself, you know,” I smiled, wiping my eyes. He laughed. “I'm so glad you're okay,” I said, beaming.

         “Don't worry, I've been alright,” He said, suddenly realizing how much he'd worried me. “I would have called, but my phone got run over out in Arizona.” Arizona. Fancy that! “Mind if I come in? I've got so much to tell you, Maxy, you have no idea!”

         Once we settled down on Dad's ugly old couch, the details began pouring out. He flung dozens of photographs that he'd taken on his travels across the coffee table while he spoke. They were beautiful photos, and my heart ached to see the places in the images that his eyes had seen.

         “Things were going pretty well,” He said, “But while I was in Vegas, I had a revelation. Here,” He handed me a photograph of a city street. In the foreground of the picture, a man and a woman were walking together, hand in hand, pointing and laughing at things we couldn't see.

         “This is nice,” I said, admiring his skill with a camera. He's very good; his photographs were in the local paper once. I swear there's nothing Tyler can't do!

         “I guess,” he shrugged. “See, the whole time I was traveling, I had this feeling that something was...missing. But I couldn't figure out what. Everywhere I looked, there were happy people. And not just in Vegas, either Max. They were everywhere! It took me a long time to understand what it was all those people I saw on the road had that I didn’t. Then I saw that couple there and I knew. They had each other. Everyone did; mothers and daughters, brothers and sisters, even husbands and wives. They were all with somebody they cared about. I knew  at that moment what I was missing--you!”

         My mouth hung open in disbelief. I'm not used to other human beings caring about me that much.

         “How could I not have seen it before? We had spent our entire childhood dreaming about traveling, and I went off and did it without you! What was I thinking? I broke our promise. You’re my best friend.  You mean the world to me, Max. I know now that I can't live without you in my life.”

         “Me too,” I breathed, “Me too.”

         We sat there in silence for a long time, struggling to distinguish reality from imagination.

         “But what I don't understand,” I said finally, “Is why you ran away from the missionaries. Where did you go? What did you do?”

         “It's hard to explain,” Tyler said softly, helping himself to what remained of my chicken and broccoli.  “I guess I began to wonder what the Hell I was doing out there.”

         “What do you mean?”

         “My father wants me to be a minister, but he also wants me to be happy. Quite honestly, I don't know that I can do both. I didn't know what I wanted, but I did know that the answer would be out on the road someplace. So I told my father how I was feeling.”

         “You did?” I was surprised. “Was he upset?”

         “Maybe a little, but I could tell he was proud of me for following my gut. 'God's calling you, son,' he said, 'Go to him.' That's how I wound up in Vegas. I hopped on a train and left the missionaries behind.”

         I was quiet for a long, long time. Tyler, following his instincts and taking the dive into the dark depths of the unknown! And here I was sitting around feeling sorry for myself!

         And then I felt I could hold back no longer. I had to ask him that dreaded question, the one I was afraid to know the answer to. “Tyler, why did you come back home?”

         “To see you, of course,” He smiled, and I could almost see rays of warm light illuminating off his face. “And, I want to ask you something. Maxy, will you come with me?”

         “What? Where?”

         “I don't know, anywhere. We could take a pirate ship, or a hot air balloon, or a couple of bicycles, even. Don't you want to at last realize your dream-our dream-of seeing new places and having exciting adventures?”

         I jumped up out of my seat, overjoyed. “Do I? Yes Tyler! Let's go! Lead the way!”

         Tyler laughed. “We can't leave right this second, I just got back!” But honestly, I was so excited, I could have left right then and there if he gave the word.

         I had every right to be thrilled. Not only had my Tyler come home, but he promised to make both of our wildest dreams come true.



July 4th 



         We're finally leaving tomorrow. I'm so excited; I can't remember the last time I was this eager for anything to happen. Goodbye Dullsville, hello first day of my new life!

         But first we celebrate. It’s the Fourth of July, and Dad's having a big barbeque. Everybody in town is here; after all, me, Tyler, Dylan, and Dad are all officially moving out. I think for Dad and Dylan the move is for the better; they have no future here. Besides, I've never cared about music the way they do, so I'd just be a hindrance. However, the first stop on our journey is Dad's New York City apartment. Then after he and Dylan settle in, well, Tyler and I are thinking of going cross-country to California. How will we get there? That's up to fate to decide, though we plan to begin our adventure by boarding a train at Grand Central Station.

         I've been thinking too, what if this whole “traveling thing” isn't everything we've built it up to be? Well, I've decided that I don't care if it winds up being worse than living in Dullsville--so long as I have Tyler by my side, all will be right with the world.

         Speaking of Tyler, I showed him my little journal with its lonely five entries (this one will make six), and he loved it. But he also said it made him sad, too.

         “Max, this part of your life is ending,” He said, “and so should this journal.”

         So guess what we did yesterday? Yup, together we walked down to the stationary store and bought a brand new journal, one I hope to keep while out on the road. Who knows? Maybe we'll write a book some day about our experiences. Tyler's photographs could even grace the cover and inside pages. I hate to see this journal go to waste, but that's why I'm giving it to Tyler's parents for safekeeping (because Lord knows Dad'll lose it!). My plan is that, if and when I ever come back here, I can reread all the things I wrote in this book and see how much I've grown and changed since then, sort of like when Tyler takes a photograph. Using words, I hope to hold onto this moment in time forever.

         Forever is a very long time, I think, but I don't mind it. If I could spend forever with my best friend Tyler I think I'd be okay with that. California, here we come!