"No. Not too much," he admitted. "I told you it wasn't a big deal."
Looking around, I tried to imagine him here with someone else. In the place that used to be ours. We had planned to raise our children here, and now he would possibly raise his own. Without me.
"This is stupid," I blurted out. "I shouldn't have come. You were going on a date, and I ruined that for you. This isn't how this is supposed to go." My words were coming out like shrapnel, firing quicker than I could comprehend them as I stood, ready to sprint for the door.
"When did it all go wrong between us? Will you explain it to me?" he asked suddenly, stopping me instantly. I turned to see him, still in his same position on the couch, holding the half-empty cup of coffee I'd made for him, as he looked up at me with wide, vulnerable eyes.
"Why?"
"You know why," he answered. "I hate mysteries."
"Okay," I answered, taking my seat once again, as the adrenaline from my attempt to flee steadied. I took the warm mug in my hands for support and brought it to my lips, savoring the smell, before I spoke.
"There really isn't a specific day … or moment. Like most couples, it happened gradually. Only ours wasn't normal-by any means."
"Why do you think that? I mean, why do you think I changed so much?" he asked, genuinely concerned.
"You found something else you loved much more-money."
"Can it really be that simple? Did I ever seem the type?" He set down his coffee mug and leaned back into the sofa as I tried to study his expression. I couldn't tell if he was upset, confused-or maybe a little sad.
"No-at least not before. When we first met, you were willing to move into my shack of an apartment to be with me. But we decided to rent a house, and even though it was bigger than anything either of us had ever lived in, it was still in San Francisco … which meant we paid double for the ability to live in what was called a house, but it was literally a shoebox, with nice flower boxes and a balcony."
"So why did we move? How did I go from being content in a shoe box to needing all this?" he asked, motioning around the room with his hands.
"You moved up in the world, and with money came more. I think at first it was the desire to give me everything I never had, and maybe in some warped way, it continued that way-I don't know. But after time, it became more about who we were to others than what we were to one another."
"It just makes no sense to me," he said softly.
"Me either, but things happen."
"Then why I do feel so strongly for you still?" he asked, his mouth clamping closed as if he'd suddenly realized what he'd said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
Silence settled between us and even though I knew I should leave, I didn't. I couldn't move a muscle from that chair, and once more … I didn't want to.
"Do you like jewelry?" he asked suddenly, out of the blue.
"What?"
He chuckled to himself, tiny lines appearing around his hazel green eyes. "Sorry, it's random, I know. But just go with it. If you were in one of those small boutiques-like around The Haight, and happened to wander in, what would you buy? A necklace … a scarf, maybe a-"
"A coffee mug," I answered immediately.
"Like an I-Love-SF mug?" he laughed.
"Yes! I don't know, maybe. Don't laugh. It's your ridiculous question. I collect them. Whenever I'm someplace special, I always try to find a coffee mug I can use-to remind me of that specific day or place."
He looked at me, somewhat taken aback … maybe slightly bewildered, until a large grin broke out across his face. "A magnet. Okay."
"What about you? What would you buy?" I asked, throwing his odd question back at him.
"Hmm, nothing probably. I'd rather take photos. Much more meaningful than anything I could buy. Cheaper, too," he said with a wink.
Like the man needed to worry about his pockets.
"You've really gotten back into photography, haven't you?" I commented, setting my now empty cup on the coffee table between us.
"Well, it's all new-now. But yes, I'm really enjoying it. It started out as just something I could do to fill in the hours of the day and now when I wake up, it's the first thing I want to do. In fact, can I show you something?"
I looked around with slight hesitation, and finally nodded. Standing, I followed his lead down the first floor hallway. My heart sprung into a gallop as we neared the farthest corner, and his hand settled on the door handle of his old office. I hadn't been in that space in years, blaming its four walls for the division between us. So many fights had been started here.
So many battles had been lost as I gave in to his power, unwilling to stand up for myself. Unwilling to let go and walk away.
August had always had a power over me, a certain hold, and it had never been more evident than when he stood behind that mighty desk, like a king surveying his kingdom.
My hands clasped together as sweat dotted my forehead. I would not turn away.
Fear had ruled my life for far too long. It was time to face my demons.
Taking the first step in behind him, it was hard not to notice the obvious changes he'd made. The few windows had been boarded up, covered in dark black cloth, and what once had filled a proud businessman's office had been pushed aside to make room for photography equipment and makeshift tables.
Even a dark cloth and various chemicals covered the priceless desk August had once loved so dearly.
All of it forgotten.
Replaced.
"You've turned it into a dark room," I stated in awe, looking around at everything he'd assembled in such a short time.
"Well, I've started to," he replied. "It's taking some time, but I've managed to print a few test rolls. Would you like to see?"
"Yes," I gave a small smile, not even bothering to hide my delight. The fear I'd felt for this room was evaporating with every second that passed, like a calming balm, soothing away the haunting memories as August directed me to the other side of the room to show me what he'd captured.
Each photo was better than the last, and I recognized several scenes from our escapade around San Francisco. Several were of strangers, hugging loved ones, caring for their children-moments in time captured forever. Others were more obscure-a random angle of a building or the way a tree's shadow met the pavement.
There were even a few of me.
He tried to hide them but I saw my own expression staring back at me.
If I only knew what I'd been trying to say.
Chapter Twenty
August
I hadn't meant to take her in here.
The words had just flown out of my mouth and here we were, standing in my sacred space, as she fingered through dozen of black and white prints I'd exposed over the last week.
If I'd known she was going to be in here, I would have cleaned.
Organized.
Planned.
Hell, I would have at least removed the photos of her. The ones I found myself staring at when the days got long, and the nights became so lonely I couldn't stand the silence any longer. I knew darkrooms were a thing of the past-now that digital had taken over the world-but there was something cathartic about standing in almost complete darkness, working on a craft, bridging it slowly to life, rather than sitting hunched over a computer screen.
Each photo brought a little bit of life back into me. It wasn't my life, perhaps, but it was something. And I watched it all appear like magic in those processing trays. Like tiny glimpses of hope-that maybe one day, I'd have a life worth photographing.
My eyes turned to the small bulletin board I'd put up on the wall for display, and settled in on the single photo I'd pinned up there. Two smiling faces in the grass, looking up at the camera with nothing but hope and happiness in the future.
Maybe someday, I could turn the camera around again and find someone worth capturing.
"Why do you have that?" Everly's voice asked in the darkness, as I watched the silhouette of her hand stretch toward the bulletin board. In the dull red lights, I saw her finger the photo, her eyes shadowed and her expression hooded as she pulled it from its place on the wall.
"Because you're smiling," I answered honestly. I had a feeling too many lies had been told within the walls of this large house. I wasn't about to add to them.
Not now, hopefully not ever.
"Why is it so important to you?" she asked. I took a step forward to glance over her shoulder. I watched her tense slightly as she felt my approaching presence but she didn't move.
"Why is it so important for you to hide it from me?" I fired back.
"Maybe I've wasted enough smiles on you."
"Fair enough. But it's still something I aspire to see," I answered softy, taking the photo from her fingers and repinning it to the board.
"I thought you got rid of all those photos," she spoke up, turning around, brushing the sleeve of my shirt as she did. "The ones of us, I mean," she clarified.