Set ten years after the events of Terminator 2: Judgment Day, John Connor and his mother, Sarah Connor, are off-grid and separated in 2005. While Sarah is at Norfolk, Virginia, for matters too personal to tell her own son, John is surviving on his o...
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While John drops off his and Reyna's trays to the counter of the café for dishwashing, she returns the curious look of the cashier. He was no older than seventeen, and had been eyeing her and John with quick glances. If he were a Terminator, she could take him down easily, especially with his lean figure. But he could also change forms to be someone stronger than her.
Once John returns to the table, the cashier walks towards their table with a Polaroid camera in his hands.
A Terminator? John silently asks with a raise of his brows.
Not sure. Just wait. Reyna responds with a quick glance.
"Hello." The cashier introduces. "My name is Andreás. I'm the owner's son. I was wondering if I could take a photo of the both of you for my art school portfolio. It lacks warm emotions and I think you two exemplify them."
Reyna almost snorts. Warm emotions? If only he knew. Maybe he is a Terminator.
"Where would you like to go to art school, Andreás?" John asks.
"I'm considering Laguna College of Art and Design, but my parents don't want me to go too far from here in Oklahoma, so I'm also considering SCAD in Georgia."
Not a threat. If he were a Terminator, he would have killed us already. "Okay, Andreás. You can take a picture of both of us as long as we all get a photo." Reyna agrees.
"How do you want us to pose?" John shifts in his seat.
Andreás prepares his camera. "Just do something that the two of you do often. Let me know when you are ready."
Bicker? Constantly save each other's lives? Run away? Of course they couldn't do that in front of the camera, so it was a surprise to her when John's hands found hers under the table and interlocks his fingers with hers. He wasn't necessarily wrong, though.
John flashes an easy smile while Reyna had trouble. She wanted John's easiness, but with an air of respectability. She finally settles on a slightly lifted chin and a curl at her lips.
When Andreás's finger rests on the button, she begins to record her surroundings: "Head Over Heels" by Tears for Fears playing from an overhead speaker. The clashing scents of lavender detergent, grilled plantains, and old ink. The rumbling of dryers, the sizzle of the grill, and the flipping of pages. Brightly painted metal chairs, maroon book spines, and suds overflowing from a washing machine's lid.
This habit began when her brother left for the Marines when she was just nine. She adopted it so that even if the moment was brief, her memory of it would not.
Click. Click. Click. With three simple presses of a button, distribution of photos, and a 'thank you' at the door, the moment was done.
John flicks his photo back and forth in the air as Reyna does the same, both waiting for the picture to develop. The photos developed just as they expected.
"Wow, Andreás is really good." Reyna comments.
"So he wasn't a Terminator?" John asks.
She shakes her head. "If he were, we'd already be dead."
This time, Reyna and John switch seats, with her at the back and him at the front. She didn't even banter with him on this one; she couldn't keep her eyes open after finishing the entire pabellón criollo.
Reyna wraps her arms around John and rests her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.
"Since when was my shoulder such a perfect pillow?" John smirks as she shifts the motorcycle into gear with his foot.
Reyna mumbles something about changing her mind before her snores deafened the low rumble of the motorcycle.
