Chapters (54)
- Cover
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Epilogue
- A Note from the Author
- Discussion Questions
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Acclaim for David Rawlings
- Also by David Rawlings
Simon raised a finger and reached under the counter for an envelope before straightening the photos in it. Then he pulled a large roll of stickers from under the counter and removed one to seal the envelope. He held it out, and Kelly took it with a trembling hand. She turned to leave, but Simon had not yet let go.
“Are you ready to see these, Kelly?”
Forty
Daniel leaned against the window of the laundromat to stop the world from spinning. His directionless walk had taken him in meandering but ever-tightening circles around Simon’s Film Lab, and he arrived back with one minute of his long hour left to burn. In that moment, the strained faces of couples slinking through his office door for counseling made sense. Facing the truth wasn’t an academic exercise or a problem that just needed a solution. And an hour could feel like ten.
The tiny bell jingled, and Daniel made his way to the counter through a thickening cloud of chemicals. The smell of something developing. “I need to know. Who are you?”
Simon rose on the balls of his feet, and a light laugh came from his lips as he tapped his name tag. “I thought we’d been introduced.”
“Very funny.”
“It’s my job to step in—to shine the light on truth, especially for those people who can’t—or won’t—face it. To encourage people to accept that their secrets are doing them harm and can destroy those around them if they don’t face up to them. In a way, I’m a counselor, just like you.”
To Daniel’s left was the slightest movement, a shimmering on the surface of one framed photo. He stared at it as the color drained from a young man’s face as he focused on a computer screen. One minute the photo was in full vibrancy; the next minute it was gray. Like the photos in Gramps’s album.
Simon clapped his hands like a child on Christmas morning. “He’s done it.” The photo dissolved, leaving the frame empty, as Simon turned to face Daniel. “These other people still think they can outlast the symptoms of their secrets.”
Daniel looked down the wall of frames. So many faces. At its end, No Secrets still sat in its thick pine frame. Still without his name.
“How did you get these photos?”
“The same way the camera does. Daniel, the truth will win out. It always does. Even for those people who think they can keep their secrets buried, they know they’re there, and they suffer because of that knowledge. For some it’s an extra burden; they carry it as baggage. Others pretend they’re happy with the life they now lead, but deep down they’re not. So while they think they’ve won, they’re the ones who later in life sit back and realize just how much they’ve lost.”