You getAll These Beautiful Strangers.
In other words: This is going to be big.
No, the house on Langely Lake wasnt a house at all.
Credit: William Morrow
When I was a little girl, we spent our summers in that fortress.
They were in a shoebox, hidden under a loose floorboard in my parents bedroom.
They were taken that summer, 2007, a few weeks before my mother disappeared.
I saw the photographs and I realized I had been wrong about everything.
Because my father hadnt built the house on Langely Lake to keep everyone else out.
Hed built it to keep us in.
Good morning, good day, some say, Salut.
Herein lies a formal invitation, just for you.
Forgive the anonymity of the sender, but you know who we are.
And were big admirers of yours, from afar.
This was followed by a list of all of Knollwood Preps student clubs and organizations.
My heart stopped when I saw the note, for the first partthe senderwasnt difficult to figure out.
Normally, I couldnt have gotten away with zoning out in class like that.
Or,When not everyone speaks up, we all lose.
Or, my personal favorite,You miss one hundred percent of the discussions you dont initiate.
Also, he had a distinct edge over most Knollwood Prep boyshe could grow facial hair.
He always had a perfect five oclock shadow cloaking his well-defined cheekbones.
This is called a telephoto lens, Mr. Andrews said.
Its a powerful tool for capturing candid moments when you cant get physically close to your subject.
As he spoke, I stared down at the camera in my lap and fiddled with the zoom.
I puzzled over the second half of the As riddle.
I have a head but never weep.
I have a bed but never sleep.
I can run but never walk.
Come meet me after dark.
The when was obvious enoughtonight after curfew.
But the where was a giant question mark.
What place had a head?
Could it be a play on the headmasters office?
Was the next lineI have a bed but never sleepsome riff on Headmaster Collinss vigilance?
Maybe, but I couldnt make the next line fit with that.
Okay, so what place had a bed?
Could it be talking about the quarries?
I sat up in my seat and set down the camera.
I hadnt noticed at first, but the woman appeared distraught as well.
I guess I understand the necessity of distance to capture the truth of a moment.
But it seems ironic that so that capture truth, you have to be duplicitous.
Distance allows the subject to act naturally precisely because the subject doesnt know theyre being watched.
I guess, in the end, that raises an ethical question for me.
Is that artor an invasion of privacy?
Im curious to hear your take on that.
I apologize if Im jumping ahead.
Admit that your comment might be tangential to cover your bases.
Deflect with another question.
Mr. Andrews looked a little surprised by my deflection.
Hmm…interesting question, Miss…?
It was almost endearing that he hadnt bothered to memorize our names from the course roster over the summer.
Calloway, I said.
That was a common response when I met people.
Miss Calloway, Mr. Andrews said, his hand stroking his bearded chin as he considered my question.
Thats always an interesting discussion.
Thanks, I mouthed silently to him and he gave me a conspiratorial wink.
