Picture perfect

Photographs are all over Justin Timberlake’s bedroom, vibrant photos of sunsets, beaches, countryside weddings, as he lay in his bed, with his mother at his side.
She runs her fingers through his fine curls, carefully not to bump his bruised and battered head, “College will be good for him,” she says softly, “It’ll make him lively again.” She picks up his pictures he has taken before the accident, admiring them.
He has a way with capturing a moment on film, or at least he did. She sorts through them one by one. The ones of his closest friend are the most heart breaking. He captured their last time together, so well.

She knows these first few weeks are going to be the toughest on him, and his friend’s family. He’s on dosages of pain killers, and is on bed rest for at least a month. She cares for him, by offering comforting words, and wiping away his tears.

Justin’s confused and dazed, when he begins venturing further than his bed. He slowly relearns some of the things he’d lost from the brain injury. He studies the camera sitting on the tabletop. He gently grasps onto it, bringing the lens to his eye, but quickly puts his down, when he sees his mom. His hands shake.
“It is okay, Justin. You can touch anything in here. It’s your room, and you loved taking pictures, before the accident. It’s your livelihood.”
He shrugs his shoulders, and frowns moving back to his bed. He sighs, “Sorry Mom,” he says slurring his words.
“Don’t be sorry. You did nothing wrong, Justin.” She pats his back, wondering if Justin can handle the photography class. He’s not the Justin she once knew. He’s very nervous, unsure of himself and who he is, and where he belongs. Is college right for him now?
He reaches for the camera once more, as his hands tremble. His right side is weaker, and much harder for him to use. He struggles to hold the camera correctly. He puts it on the nightstand by his bed. His head rests on the soft, fluffy pillow, and his mom occupies a chair by his bed.

Justin refuses to touch the camera terrified for days, until a piticular picture jars his memory, "T tt ace," he mumbles as Justin sits on his bed with his mom, "T tt ace gone," he sighs holding the photograph at the realization. "T tt ace like painting," he remembers, "make book."
"I think they will still try to publish his book," she smiles reassuringly. "We have so many things going on love like seeing if you're ready for college."
He shakes his head, "too sleepy for school."
She laughs, "You won't be forever, just another week or more. Those meds your on make you tired." She watches him grasp the camera, and look through the hole. His hands shake, as he turns toward the window where two blue jays are and snaps his first photo.

"He's not ready for school," says his Grandmother Sadie, a week later, "he is so empty right now. I can barely get a word out of him." She passes Lynn the dishes from the soappy water.
"He's comming along Mom, but the physcolgist feels it may take him awhile to understand fully what has happened. He's just starting to pick-up the pieces. He's finally taking some pictures, but won't venture too far from the house. The outside terrifies him, especially the car."

Justin sits on the porch with a cup of lemonade in one hand, as he eyes the cars and people around him. He slowly turns his head at the sound of his grandmothers voice, "Granny," Justin says excitedly, "Granny miss you."
"I've missed you too Justin," she states softly sitting in a chair next to him, "How have you been?"
"Scared," Justin admits stuttering.
"What are you scared of love?"
Justin thinks about her question before responding, "Forgetting Ttt ace," he sighs.
"Oh, Sweetheart, that will never happen," she replies trying to soothe him. Your mom said you were afraid of other things too."
He nods his head, and points at the car, "Dem," he sighs.
"It will get better I promise," she tells him.
"I hope so Granny! I do."

Justin's speech improves slightly over the course of a month. He is able to say his words clearer, but still struggles.
He has a doctor’s visit before attending college. Justin’s very quiet and untalkitive. He concerns the doctor with his shyness. It wasn’t like him to be totally quiet, and seem so calm. Usually it was easy to pin point his emotions. Everything was deep down inside of him, and he would not offer much insight on how he was dealing with the loss of his soul mate.

“Picture perfect it seemed,
An American dream,
To grow up as friends,
Thinking life has no end.”

Justin turns the channel, wanting nothing to do with the song on the radio.

“Or so it did seem,
We were taught to believe,
That our dreams we’d achieve,
If in one another, we had just believed. “

He blocks the song out of his head, as he runs his fingers through his soft golden curls. He fastens his seatbelt, and looks back at all his stuff in the back of his mom’s car. Tears well in his blue eyes.
He grabs his camera from the back seat, and puts it around his neck. He looks around, wiping his eyes, and begins shooting, but not just anything would do. He points the camera toward the old one story home.
His friend’s old home, right by the river where beautiful flowers grow. The land is perfect for picture taking. His friend would paint masterpieces, after Justin shot them, with his camera.
His mom figures it is his way of grieving, and it couldn’t be more beautiful. He still has that gift.
Only now, that cherished gift displays his friend’s legacy and life. He didn’t have a chance, but Justin isn’t about to give up on showing the world who his friend was, and that is beyond amazing to Justin’s mom.
She only worries about him hiding this pain, and prays he cries to release those feelings, but maybe he didn’t know how to show himself any other way, but through photos, and that would be enough. Only time will tell.

Justin is a loner the first semester of college, with decent grades, loneliness in his heart, and his pictures of home life to keep him sane. He moves his belongings to one side of the room, as a he is going to be getting a roommate named Sam. He didn’t have much anyway, and his pictures are his most prized position.
Sam is heavier than Justin, and round. His eyes are dark green, and narrow. His whole face doesn’t seem to fit his large body, but Justin didn’t even notice him. “Hey, you gonna say hi, or don’t you speak.”
“I speak,” he mumbles. He rearranges his pictures, as his right hand trembles. His ride side of his face twitches.
“What’s up with the weakness, Man?”
“I was in an accident,” he sighs. “My whole right side is messed up from my head down to me feet. My upper body is mostly affected, lots of numbness, tingling and of course pain.”
Sam nods, “That is horrible. Was anybody else hurt?”
“That’s all I’m saying for now,” Justin mouths, “sorry.”

Justin often thinks his friend is with him, especially before he goes to sleep. He sees a young man all in white, and everything is calm, like those days they had spent together. He has nothing to be afraid of, because angels are watching over him. His eyelids droop, and he goes to sleep.

Some days are better than others are for him. The females on campus tend to like him, though Justin won’t seek them out. He’s not interested in a girlfriend, yet.
One of the females from his class eats lunch with him, “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” he whispers, “The medicines make me feel so sleepy.”
“Will you ever get to be off of them?”
“I hope so,” he says trying to make a smile, but finding it difficult with his muscles being weak.
“You don’t eat much,” she points out.
Justin shakes his head, and reaches into his backpack for something, “Healthy food, better.”
She laughs, “Yes, not much of that around here. What do you like to eat most?”
“Pizza,” he says softly, as he brings the carrot stick to his mouth.
“What else do you like?” She runs her fingers through her long brown hair waiting for an answer.
“Awe-tis-um weariness,” he knows he fumbled on that one.
“That’s cool, Justin. What makes you be interested in that?”
“Friend had it,” he supplies. He slowly stands, and grabs his backpack, “Sorry, I have to go to class.”
“It’s okay. I’ll see you later, Justin.”
“Bye Maggie,” he says carefully, pleased with how his words came out more smoothly.


Justin takes his medicine to help him have clearer speech, though he knows it’ll make him drowsy, and fall asleep, after his class.

Sam is getting used to Justin’s need for extra sleep. He keeps the room quiet, so Justin’s body can rest.
Justin has to have his pills at the exact time everyday, or he’ll have complications, like greater speech delays or less awareness of what’s going on.

Some of the students choose to make fun of Justin, and his disabilities, but Sam and Maggie step in to give him support.
They tell him not to worry about their harsh statements, because he is doing a good thing for his friend.
For him it is very frustrating, because there is so many things he would like to say but cannot, and he figured this is how his friend must have felt. Now, Justin’s the silent friend, as far as words are concerned, but not in pictures.

That evening, “its picture perfect, Justin,” Maggie tells him smiling, “You don’t have to tell us with words about what your friend means to you, and what you wanted the world to know, because your pictures show it all. Sometimes words are not needed to captivate a person. You show this bright, witty, cautious, and loving person through motion. That’s the beauty of art and photograph. It is about capturing those special moments by using the environment you have around you. He must have been a very special person to you.”
He nods, “You understand.”
“Of course I do, Justin. Would you like me to help you with your presentation?”
“Okay,” he says beginning to stutter and slur his words.

The next day, Justin has therapy to try to strengthen his weakened muscles, and he asks Maggie to tag along. She kisses his forehead, and gently touches his hands, as he lay on the table. He likes listening to her voice, as he works his strained muscles. She blocks out some of his pain.

His head rests upon her chest, as his breathing slows. This is the second time Justin’s done this, after they talked about his autism project.
He must be tired from the medications, and the thoughts of the accident wear him down. If it weren’t for his sleepiness, and speech delays he’d be a lot better off. She realizes part of his speech problems are not from damage to his brain, but injury to his facial muscles, on his right side. Those muscles work very little or none.

Justin's nonverbal presentation sparks interest in his photogpharaphy teacher, and fellow students.
The Autism Society hears of Justin's contribution to his friend, and invites him to share his artistic ability at their next event.
The society is aware of Justin's impairments, and is willing to take the time to listen to the words he would say, and translate them, so others could understand him. All questions are asked in advance to make him feel comfortable.

The society taliors to his sensory needs as well, while he is visiting. Justin is in a calming dim lit room, with just a few people at a time. Soft music lulls him.

Justin's mom is at his side, talking in a soothing tone, "I'm so proud of you, Sweetheart. The people are going to love hearing your story."
Afraid to tire his vocal, and facial muscles, he signs, "Thank you." Opening his book to page one, he allows her to read his special message.
"Your friend must be honnored to have a friend like you," she tells him. "Fufilling his request to have people know his story is an amazing feat."
"Mazing," Justin mumbbles, as a man enters the room to type his ansers into a computer.
The man smiles and tells him, "I am going to record your voice to fill in gaps, if you begin to slur your words, or get them confused, okay?"
"Okay," Justin says nervously.
The process goes well for him. He is ready for the stage.

Exiting the stage, sweat pours off his face, as he steps into the mellow room to reflect. A soft familiar voice starttles him. "Tttt," he stutters.
"I didn't mean to frighten you, Justin. I want you to understand that I am no longer hurting, only in the fact of missing you. You did really well tonight. I hope you continue to make improvements with your speech, and muscles."
Silent for several seconds, Justin begins babbling, as he gathers his matterials, stunned by his friend's visit, and the present Trace has left for him on the table.
Entering the room, Lynn studies her son, who is emersed in a colorful photo book of various parts of the world. The bright colors stimulate him, as Lynn gazes at the artist's name, a gasp escapes her mouth. "Do you know who made these pretty images?"
"Tttt, ace," he says slowly,"friend my."
Softly, she kisses his head of curls,"Yes, Justin."

Holding the fuzzy book, his eyelids droop closed, and his mom carefully places it beside him, as she has assistance getting him into the car.
Lynn believes life will be different, now that Justin, and his friend fufilled each other's "Picture Perfect dreams."

Life in the Light.......
"A photograph is a moment frozen in time, for all to see. All its beauty and horror, are captured when life meets the flash of light. There is no immation to life. It cannot be harvested in the physical sensese. We live, we breathe, and we die! In our photos we remind the world of who we were, captured in a glossy piece of artwork.
Is it the resourcefullness of the photographer who frames each such hoping for prefection, or the object and beings themseleves that captavate generations to come. I suppose, I will leave that up to you the reader.
Remember not what I write here on this piece of paper, but what is shown in each "frozen moment in time. That is what you shall take with you through this life. "- Justin Randal Timberlake
"Stop music," he says softly, putting the pen to rest.
Muting the music, his Mom, Lynn, gently takes his hands, "Shhh, no more music."
"Music way," he smiles, as his mother sighs unsure why he doesn't like music, since the accident.
Justin becomes extremely fussy with most types of music. Lynn knows only one or two songs he'll tollerate, and they are lullibies Trace would sing with him, or at least try to sing.
He reaches for the book Trace gave to him, after passing. A new book with Trace's artwork would be arriving in a few days for Justin to touch and remember his friend by. He will typically sleep with the book, as it comforts him till he is asleep. Lynn will then move it to Justin's nightstand. Justin is asleep after a few minutes of listening to the lullaby. This amazes his mother how these pieces confort him, and wonders if mixing in other songs with his lullabies would make him enjoy other music as well.
Justin appears frightend and gazes around the room,"Lullies diff-ent," he says shakily to her the first night of this experient.
"Do you not like them, Sweetheart?"
"Don't ike," he replies sleepily.
She gently massages his chest, and begins singing over the music to calm him into sleep. Lynn is aware that Justin may never get past this difficult and confusing phase in his life.
A new medication controls some of his temperment problems.
Justin has met somebody very special at one of his seccessions at the brain injury clinnic, and the two have formed a solid bond over the last three years.
He has undergone a number of procedures, and she has helped him through his struggles.

[new story comming]