These Dreams of You

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Parker says to Molly, “She’ll break that camera.” Sheba looks at her brother and draws a finger across her throat. “Sheba,” Zan says to the girl, who’s pulled a small camera from Molly’s purse, “that’s not yours.”

“I don’t mind,” says Molly.

“Thank you, that’s nice of you,” Zan says, “but she can’t think it’s O.K. to go through other people’s things.”

“She broke Viv’s camera,” says Parker.

“SHUT UP, PARKER!” Sheba says.

“Mom was pissed off,” says the boy. He adds, “That’s a really old-school camera.” This is the first time Zan has heard his son say “pissed.” Also, if he had nothing else to think about, he would monitor the occasions when Viv is “Mom” and when Zan is “Dad”—an excavation of Parker’s references and forms of address. Sheba attacks the button on the camera. “Stop it,” Zan says and takes the camera, handing it to Molly. “It’s an old-school camera,” Sheba says, mimicking her brother.

“I have had it since I was a little girl,” says Molly, “about your age.” Parker is trying to fathom cameras existing that far back in time. “It’s a ghost camera,” Molly smiles, bending down to Sheba. “Oooh.”

“That’s not scary,” the four-year-old informs the woman. “What’s a ghost camera?”

“It means,” says the woman, leaning into her explanation to make it sound as mysterious as possible, “that sometimes you take a picture but a minute later when you pull out the film, it has disappeared.”

“I think,” Parker says, “that’s another name for a camera that doesn’t work.”