We wrapped things up and headed out to Corona Del Mar State Beach so that I could try my hand at taking pictures the old-fashioned way, on film, the way my mother would have done. Lark gave me a notepad and told me to write down how I composed each picture. She also told me to take several photos of the same thing using different amounts of light, saying that we would compare them after they were printed.
“That’s how you learn which way is best,” she said.
It was slow going, writing down the information each time I took a picture and trying to remember the artistic approach she had told me about on Saturday along with the scientific approach I was paying attention to now. I took photos of cliffs, rock formations, shells on the beach, the pier, gulls, palm trees, and even a few of Lark, which was a little bit awkward. After the third roll of film, it was getting close to eleven thirty and time to stop. As we walked back to the parking lot, she asked me how things were going with Brady. I told her I had taken her advice about spending more time listening and had noticed a slight improvement in our communication. That made her happy. She asked if I wanted to stop for fish tacos on the way back to her house.
“I can’t. I need to get home. I’m expecting a phone call from back East.” I added that a taco with a fish inside it seemed like a bad idea all the way around.
We arrived at Liz’s car and took off our flip-flops to bang the sand out of them.
“I bet you’re expecting to hear from your girlfriend.”
“As a matter of fact, yes. I missed her call on Saturday, so she’s trying again today. At one o’clock my time.”
We got into the car, which was warm inside from being closed up.
“What’s she like?” Lark asked as she clicked her seat belt.
I followed suit and started the car. “She’s smart and pretty and isn’t afraid to speak her mind. We’ve been friends since we were kids.”
“How long have you been more than friends?”
I started to pull out of the parking lot. “I don’t know. Probably since I was about seventeen.”
“Holy cow. That’s, what, six years? You guys have been dating for six years?”
“I guess we have.”
“So why is she still just your girlfriend? Why don’t you marry her?”
“It’s complicated,” I said, repeating the word I’d used with my dad. Except unlike the conversation I had with him, Lark didn’t interrupt as I continued. “Rachel is already a member of the church. I’m not yet.”
“You can’t marry her unless you’re a member?”
“It’s more that she can’t marry me unless I’m a member.”
“And you’re not,” she said, echoing my words. “How come?”
“Membership isn’t a decision to be made lightly, especially for me.”
“Why especially for you?”
“Because I’m not like anyone else in my district. Every other Amish person I know was born into an Amish family and has an Amish mother and father. It’s different for me.”
“I see.” She was thoughtful for a moment. “So how long can you wait to decide?”
I pulled into a lane of fast-moving cars and someone honked at me. “Most Amish people my age have already decided. I really can’t put it off much longer.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I am here hoping to figure that out. I need to know which world I belong in. I am either Amish all the way to my core or I’m not.”
“But if…if you find you belong to this world out here, that means you and Rachel can’t…” Lark didn’t finish her thought.
“Yes. It means I can’t marry her.”
We were quiet for a moment as I drove.
“That’s why you are so interested in your mother, isn’t it? She didn’t become a member.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Instead she married your dad, who wasn’t Amish.” Lark sat back in her seat. “Wow. Do you think you will figure this out before you have to go back?”
“I’m counting on it.”
Fifteen minutes later I was pulling up to the curb at her house. I thanked her again for the lesson, and she tried to make plans for when we would meet again, but with her complicated schedule it was taking too long, so I told her I had to go and she could just text me once she’d figured it out.
The main road to home had been reduced to one lane because of some construction, and it took me twice as long to get back as I was expecting. I watched the clock the whole way, though, and ended up with fifteen minutes to spare as I turned onto my dad’s street.
Nearing the house, I spotted a vehicle I didn’t recognize in the driveway. It wasn’t the day for the cleaning service; they had already come this week. I parked next to the car, noting that no one was standing on the doorstep, ringing the bell.
When I got close to the front door, I heard voices on the other side of it. I had set the security system before I left, so whoever was in there had to know how to disarm it. I had a feeling it was some other sort of service personnel to take care of yet another thing this family owned that they didn’t take care of themselves.