Beautiful Boy(7)

"I'm sorry, but I don't have anything set up at the moment. If you could  take a seat in here, I'll be right back." The professional grin I wore  on my face in front of clients felt forced as I pointed to the chairs in  the waiting room. After he hesitantly took a seat, I headed to my desk  in the back room. I may have appeared confident on the outside, but  inside, I was filled with uncertainty and doubt.

Shari met me with downturned eyes and a slight frown. It was evident she  held the same compassion I did for this kid, and I'm sure her levels of  hatred toward Nolan were comparable to mine, as well.

"What am I supposed to do, Share?" I tried to keep my voice low, but the  intense emotion that ran through me caused my throat to tighten and  forced me to speak louder in order to get the words out. "I can't come  up with a single idea. Did you see him? Like, really see him? Something  tells me he's not homeless, but I can't imagine why he'd wear those  clothes if he wasn't. And there's no way he could've pulled this off  last minute for the shoot. What am I missing?"

Before Shari could respond, the chime to the door sounded again. I  peered out into an empty waiting room. Shit. The boy was gone. I only  hoped he hadn't heard me talking to Shari.

I ran out after him, catching up to him as he rounded the front of the building. "Wait!"

"This was a stupid idea." He didn't bother turning around to look at me  as he spoke. Even as I stood behind him, his voice came out deep and  harsh, much different than I had imagined he'd sound. "I shouldn't have  come."

"Please, just wait. I'm glad you came." I tried to convey how much I  honestly wanted him to stay, surprised by the actual disappointment I  experienced at the thought of him leaving.

"Why? I read your mission statement in there. I read how you vow to  capture the essence of true beauty in everything. There's nothing but  ugliness inside me. I'm repulsive. You'd only be wasting your time."

"I really wish you'd give me a chance to show you how wrong you are."

He shook his head and turned his distraught attention toward his feet.  "If you ever saw the images in my head, you'd have nightmares for  months. They give me nightmares. I can't escape them. I've thought about  ending it all several times-make it all go away, finally have an ounce  of peace."

It seemed as though he'd been talking to himself, not realizing I stood  in front of him and could hear his blatant cry for help. And when his  eyes met mine again, they were filled with such pain and sorrow my heart  crumbled inside my chest.

"There is no beauty in or outside of me. My damage can't be seen with  the naked eye. It's embedded so deeply on the inside, my veins carry the  disease through my body. It consumes me." He fisted his hair to  punctuate what he wanted me to believe. "I look like this because I'm  tired of people telling me I'm okay. How would they know? They don't  know because they can't see inside my head. They can't see the things I  do. They can't experience what I go through on a daily basis. So I show  them by making the outside match what I look like on the inside."         

     



 

He didn't sound crazy, or even make me fearful of him. It was obvious  this kid struggled with depression, and I understood his desire to make  his pain visible-his battle was unseen, locked tightly inside his mind. I  desperately wanted to reach out to him, but he seemed skittish,  frightened of everything around him. I didn't want to cause him any more  distress.

"Please, I promise I will do you justice. If you'll just come back inside with me-"

"No." His deep, abrasive tone took me by surprise and silenced the rest  of my sentence. "It's useless. You won't be able to take my pictures  anyway. I didn't even think about the flash. I won't be able to handle  it."

"It's okay … it's fine." I had to quickly think on my feet. "We can do it  all outside with natural light. We don't have to do it in there." I  waved toward my door as I feverously tried to conjure a solution on such  short notice. And then a thought came to me. "A boat … can you handle  being on a boat?"

His eyebrows drew together and his top lip curled behind his mangy beard  as he considered my suggestion. I worried for a moment he would say no,  but he surprised me when he said, "Yeah, I can be on a boat."

"Okay, good. I have an idea, but I need a moment to get everything  together. Do you mind waiting inside while I get organized? Ten minutes,  tops. I promise."

He agreed with a hesitant nod before following me back inside. I grabbed  my camera bag, not bothering with the other equipment, and then made a  brief phone call to a friend of mine who owned a boat. Shari listened in  on the call so I wouldn't have to repeat myself to her.

I moved with efficient speed, knowing in the back of my mind he could  bolt at any moment. Less than ten minutes later, we were in the car,  heading for Tarpon Pointe Marina.

Shari offered him the front seat, but he chose to sit alone in the back,  not saying a single word the entire drive. Utter sadness filled me when  I thought about the level of this young man's depression. But I fought  hard to remain optimistic, hoping I could offer him at least some  semblance of peace.

Paul, my friend with the boat, waited for me at the end of the dock. He had the engine cranked and everything ready to go.

The boy, who still hadn't given me his name, followed quietly behind as  we made our way to the end of the dock. Paul eyed him curiously, but I  shook my head at him, letting him know he shouldn't ask any questions.

We headed out to one of the small islands in the Caloosahatchee River.  When the boat stopped, the boy didn't move, only gazed at me with  curiosity in his dark-green eyes-eyes I knew would capture the sun and  gleam like emeralds.

"This is as close as we can get to the shore, so we'll have to wade  through the water by foot. But don't worry, it's really shallow. You're  probably going to want to remove your shoes, though. And if you could,  I'd like for you to take off your shirt, as well. You can keep on your  jeans if you'd like."

I expected hesitancy, yet I didn't get any.

Without a word, he kicked his shoes off and pulled his shirt over his  head. His baggy clothes had successfully hidden his muscles, and had  made him appear much smaller than he was, yet his frame was still  slight … like a boy. I did notice one lone tattoo, high on his bicep-a  cartoon depiction of an arched bench weight and the word "Ku-chow"  written beneath it.

"Can I get a name so I have something to use when I call out  directions?" I asked, hoping to earn a little bit of his trust. Things  would go a lot smoother if we had some rapport between us.

He offered a small grin. "Andrew."

"Okay, thank you, Andrew."

After our belated introductions, we made our way to the shore. No more  than fifty feet past the break of the surf, trees heavily populated the  island. I knew how perfect the spot was before even making it there, and  I immediately began shooting.

Andrew didn't need too much direction. I let him wander and explore  while I captured it all on camera. The images reflected a similarity to  Cast Away-minus Wilson, the volleyball. I took shot after stunning shot  of this slight boy with young muscles hiding behind trees, crouching  behind bushes, and meandering through wildlife.

We spent nearly an hour on the island. I didn't need the entire time to  capture what I'd been looking for, but Andrew appeared peaceful and I  didn't want to end one single glimpse of tranquility in this young man's  tortured life.





I hadn't even been at my desk for twenty minutes before Shari informed  me of my next client's arrival. I turned around, expecting to see my  assistant, but my attention was stolen by the god who stood beside her.  He was tall, broad, and gave the impression of being light on his  feet … well, technically, he didn't have any feet. He had metal  hook-looking things extending past the bottom of his jeans. However, his  legs hadn't been what surprised me. After Nolan had sent over three sad  and depressed people, I wasn't at all expecting to find a man standing  there, grinning as if he had just won the lottery.         

     



 

"I'm Mike. Nice to meet you." He extended his hand to me, but never took his dark-brown eyes away from my face.

His confidence momentarily shocked me as I blinked stupidly at him. The  vast difference between this man and the others amazed me. Suddenly, I  realized I hadn't responded. A small laugh released on an exhale as I  accepted his offered hand. "Novah, and this is my assistant, Shari."

He curled his fingers around mine and pulled them to his mouth where he  pressed his soft lips against my knuckles. "Novah … such a unique name."  His voice soared to my ears and sounded like a musical instrument. He  released my hand and then took Shari's. "It's a pleasure."