Page 219 - And the Mountains Echoed (novel)

years,” she said a little chidingly. “Not much to look at, though. It’s ugly. It

looks like a brick. So you want to be a photographer? You know, when you’re
all grown up? Your mother says you do.”
I turned around. “Mamá told you that?”
“So?”
I shrugged. I was embarrassed that Mamá had discussed this with Thalia. I
wondered how she’d said it. She could unsheathe from her arsenal a mockingly
grave way of talking about things she found either portentous or frivolous. She
could shrink your aspirations before your very eyes. Markos wants to walk the
earth and capture it with his lens.

Thalia sat on the sidewalk and pulled her skirt over her knees. It was a hot
day, the sun biting the skin like it had teeth. Hardly anyone was out and about
except for an elderly couple trudging stiffly up the street. The husband—Demis
something—wore a gray flat cap and a brown tweed jacket that looked too heavy
for the season. He had a frozen, wide-eyed look to his face, I remember, the way
some old people do, like they are perpetually startled by the monstrous surprise
that is old age—it wasn’t until years later, in medical school, that I suspected he
had Parkinson’s. They waved as they passed and I waved back. I saw them take
notice of Thalia, a momentary pause in their stride, and then they moved on.

“Do you have a camera?” Thalia said.
“No.”
“Have you ever taken a picture?”
“No.”

“And you want to be a photographer?”
“You find that strange?”
“A little.”
“So if I said I wanted to be a policeman, you’d think that was strange too?
Because I’ve never slapped handcuffs on anyone?”

I could tell from the softening in her eyes that, if she could, she would be
smiling. “So you’re a clever ass,” she said. “Word of advice: Don’t mention the
camera in my mother’s presence or she’ll buy it for you. She’s very eager to
please.” The handkerchief went to the cheek and back. “But I doubt that Odelia
would approve. I guess you already know that.”
I was both impressed and a little unsettled by how much she seemed to have
grasped in so little time. Maybe it was the mask, I thought, the advantage of
cover, the freedom to be watchful, to observe and scrutinize.

“She’d probably make you give it back.”