Beautiful Boy(33)

I hung my head, fighting back the tears threatening to consume me when I  pictured Novah and the things she now had to endure because of me.

"You will give me your camera, all your film, the pictures you've  developed, and you'll never touch them again. You'll turn your closet  back into a closet and get rid of everything associated with the  darkroom you've turned it into. It's about time you grow up and become  the man you were meant for and stop wasting your time with foolish  things like cameras and pictures that'll lead you nowhere."

"Okay … I think I have more than enough." Novah's sweet and  laughter-filled voice caught my attention. "What about you, Nolan? Do  you think you have enough?"

The camera in my hand suddenly grew heavy, weighted down with the memory  that had filled my head for however long we'd been outside.

"Yeah." I had no idea how many pictures I'd taken or how many of them  had actually turned out, but it didn't matter because I was done taking  them and ready for it to end. It was no longer fun for me.

Shari helped Novah off the ground and they both headed inside, leaving  me to follow behind their excitement. I admired the way they seemed  carefree and able to enjoy a simple day of laughter. But around them, I  became like the flattened third wheel, the one that dragged them down  and left their ride bumpy and painful. I needed to get away from them  before I ruined everything-and I found the perfect excuse once we made  it inside Novah's office.

"What are we doing now?" I asked, standing back while Novah sat down at her desk.

"Now we edit. Shari will pick the best photo, and the winner gets  dinner." She turned and winked at me. "Technically, we're both winners,  because if I win, I'm taking you as my date. And if you win, you can  take whoever you want, but if it's not me, I'm going to warn you now I  have full intentions of crashing your date." She shrugged and smiled at  her joke, and it offered a little light to my darkened mood.

"That all sounds wonderful, but I have no idea how to edit these photos,  Novah. I've never used a computer program for editing before. I'm used  to old-fashioned film and a darkroom."

"It's okay," Shari said, bouncing into the room with a wide smile and  jumping eyebrows. "I'm fantastic at editing. I've learned from the best.  I'll work on yours while Novah does whatever to hers, and then I'll  pick my favorite."

"No. That's really not necessary. I'm sure Novah will win anyway. Just pick one of hers."

Shari stilled and cocked her head my way, her facial features becoming taut as she watched me with curiosity.

"If you edit his, Share, then your opinion may become slightly biased.  Just show him how the program works; it doesn't have to be anything  fancy. I'm not doing anything in depth with mine. After all, they're  only pictures of you."

Shari spun to face Novah and pointed her finger in the air, holding her  other hand on her hip. "Don't get all lazy because it's me. And I want  the best picture taken, not necessarily the best-edited one. You should  know the difference. You lecture me all the time about how Photoshop can  only do so much, and the real work is in the shot. So whether I tweak  it or not doesn't make my opinion biased."

"Why do you want a picture of yourself, anyway?" I asked, earning her attention once more.

She glanced over her shoulder at me and smiled. "This guy I'm seeing  wants a Novah original of me. I told him I'd get him one. The winning  shot will be framed for his office."

I blinked at her, the need to laugh becoming strong. I didn't know much  about this girl, but it didn't take long to learn why she'd been Novah's  best friend. Speaking slowly and clearly, I said, "And you think when  he asked for this, he meant a picture of you dancing around in a neon  leotard?"         

     



 

"He wasn't specific."

The laughter I'd had building up in my chest erupted, immediately followed by Novah's and Shari's infectious giggles.

"Come on. Give me the camera and I'll do some magic on it." Shari held her hand out, expecting me to hand it over.

"Really, it's not necessary. I'm sure the ones I took are awful and will all be discarded. Just choose one of Novah's."

Shari stepped closer and lowered her voice. "Why don't you want me to see them?"

"It's been a really long time since I've taken any pictures, and I'm sure they're bad."

She grabbed the camera from my hand but didn't immediately walk away.  Her gaze pierced mine with a raised brow, questioning me silently. But I  had nothing to say. She'd see for herself soon enough.

Other than the soft clicks of Novah's mouse on her computer, stillness  filled the studio. Shari had taken a laptop and sat down on the couch in  the waiting room where I could see her through the opened door. The  second her eyes lifted above the top of the computer and met mine, I  knew I was done.

"You guys don't need me here anymore. I'm just gonna head out."

Novah spun in her seat and stopped when her wide eyes met mine. "Don't  go. This won't take very long and then we'll get to see each other's  shots."

Bending down and pressing my lips to her cheek, I whispered into her  ear, "It's fine. I have errands to run anyway. Just give me a call after  she picks and tell me where to meet you for dinner."

As I made my way toward the front door, I caught a small smile playing  on the edges of Shari's lips, but she didn't bother taking her attention  away from the screen in front of her.

This day of fun had turned into a day of humiliation and unsettling memories fast.





Thirteen





Hours passed as I waited for her call. And the longer the time drew on,  the more unsettled I became. It wasn't so much about Novah and the  pictures as it was the damaging thoughts of my father's words from my  past bringing me to my knees. This was the reason I had a hard time  finding something to make me happy to begin with.

Because everything came with a price.

And sometimes, the price was too great to pay.

The truth was, I had enjoyed the experience of holding a camera in my  hands again, standing in the sun and surrounding myself with nature. It  was something I'd always liked when taking photography. When others  would choose inside stations or artificial light, my mind instantly went  outdoors. There was so much you could learn about life while taking it  all in through the lens. It didn't matter the weather or time of day;  there was always something to see, something to learn.

Rain had a tendency to sour moods, but in my youth, I never fell victim  to the grey clouds or dreary sky. To me, it'd given me the chance to  capture a pool of rainwater that offered residence to tadpoles. It'd  provided physical evidence of growth in wildlife as plants soaked up the  water in the soil. While growing up, I used to love sitting in the back  yard and catching the moment my neighbor's cat drank from a puddle, and  then he would freak out when a drop fell from the sky and landed on his  head. To me, it never mattered where I was or the temperature outside. I  could always find something to capture.

But everything changed the day my father took it all away and punished  me for my love of the art. The day everything turned upside. And ever  since then, I'd never been the same. I'd never found anything capable of  offering that same sense of pride or contentment.

Now, rain was a nuisance to me. No longer could I enjoy the elements  like I once had when I was younger. Rain meant sticky joints in my  titanium leg, time spent drying it off and caring for it if I didn't  want it to rust, and then spending more money and time on a replacement.  The blazing sun no longer offered me warmth or reminded me of  blossoming flowers and chirping birds.

Instead, it brought back unpleasant memories of the desert, the sand, the unbearable heat you couldn't escape.

In place of birds, I heard the buzz of insects, the kind that found you no matter where you hid.

And once my mind went there, I couldn't block out the deep booms of  exploding bombs, or the phantom vibrations that shook me, regardless of  the fact I was alone in my condo, nowhere near an explosion. The  thunderous pops of gunfire filled my ears until my hearing morphed into a  loud ringing sound, deafening me to reality.

It didn't matter how much I once loved photography, or how holding a  camera in my hand felt more like a piece of my heart than a piece of  metal, because it'd been ruined. Tarnished. My love for the art had long  since rotted and wilted away.         

     



 

Novah: I have the prints. Come to my house?

I wanted to see her, but I knew my mood had turned too dark to be around  her. She'd know within a second of seeing my face something was wrong,  and I didn't want to get into it with her. The very last thing I wanted  to do was explain how her good intention had eaten me alive inside.

Me: I already know you won. There's no point in wasting the time going through the prints.

I barely had my phone set down before it rang, vibrating against the  bedside table. All I wanted to do was cower away in my room with the  shades drawn, blocking out the rest of the world, but I knew Novah  wouldn't accept that.