Fiction Fix
The Investment by Joachim Frank
This was the famous photograph—a pretty blond girl, dressed as a nurse, who has jumped the police barricades, kissing one of the homecoming sailors on VJ Day in front of the cheering crowd on Broadway. The sailor, visibly mesmerized by his luck, holds the small of her back with his strong arm. The two are self-absorbed, as though caught in a dream; there is capriciousness in their unrehearsed, tango-like posture. The photograph had appeared in LIFE magazine right after World War II, part of Alfred Eisenstaedt’s oeuvre. Looking at the picture on the wall of the gallery, Paul had an insight. “I was just five years old at that time,” he said to Sue, his wife standing next to him. “And you—you weren’t even been born yet. Just think of that!” “Looking at this really gets you thinking,” Sue said. “The way she twirls around!” Paul continued. “Her giddiness.” Sue stepped up closer to the picture, amusement showing on her face. “I wonder, did they ever get married?” she asked. “And ruin the moment?” he said, laughing. Since she remained silent, he looked at her sideways, and saw her biting her lip. He knew he had again gone too far. His wife had a habit of reading every remark, every gesture as a comment on her own life. “Why did you say that?” she finally said, in a hurt voice. “Say what?” he asked. “What you just said.” “Honey�,” he said, putting his arms on her shoulder. “What I meant to say is that the picture is about a moment. Everything is in that moment. There is no couch I see here, no TV, no bagels and lox for brunch.” “Oh, stop it already!” she said. For now Sue was arrested in her monosyllabic mood, though she still allowed him to touch her. Finally she yielded, putting her hand on his shoulder. This was the way it worked, he thought, two people making a life together: a lot of compromises, but never taking away from an undercurrent of affection. Yes, the tangible picture seemed to speak to him, we are all part of this strange century, on this strange planet of ours. And, simultaneously, another thought came to him: The sailor comes back from a killing mission, and his
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