Photos of You (ARC)

by Tammy Robinson

  “You forgot about the Pizza Palace,” James reminds me.

  “Oops. Don’t tell Leonardo. He gets upset easily.”

  “Emotional guy, Leonardo.”

  “You’re telling me. I remember when Italy were knocked out of the soccer World Cup. He didn’t open the restaurant for a week. Just sat in his courtyard out the back drinking wine and weeping. Rose from the drycleaner’s next door heard him.”

  He arches his eyebrows. “And promptly told everyone?”

  “Of course. You know what small towns are like.”

  “I’m beginning to learn, yes.”

  “Where did you grow up? I know it wasn’t around here, because there’s no way we wouldn’t have crossed paths before now. Also you have a certain…” I wave my hands around as I try to think of the right word; I fail. “…city air, about you.” I say lamely.

  “City air?”

  “You know, suave and cultured. Like you visit museums and art galleries and dine at restaurants with more than one fork on the table.”

  He laughs. “In that case, guilty as charged. Born and bred city boy, I’m afraid. But before you completely write me off, I don’t really enjoy living in the city. Too frantic for me. I much prefer the pace out here.”

  “You’ve redeemed yourself slightly, then.”

  “That’s why I bought a small place out here four years ago. Initially as a holiday home, somewhere to escape the rat race for mini breaks. But the more time I spend here the more I like the idea of making this a permanent base.”

  “It gets under your skin, doesn’t it?”

  “Small-town life?”

  “Yes. There’s a real sense of community here. We look out for one another.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  As we walk, the sun sinks lower and the world takes on a gentle hue: muted, softer. Occasionally joggers pass by us on the path, smiling a greeting as we shuffle to one side to let them past. Two old men are camped out on deckchairs on the sand, rods in the water, beers in hand. I can hear the laughter and shrieks of children at the playground near the main jetty, fifty meters or so behind us. Their voices carry easily in the still air and bring a smile to my face. There is a general sense of calm and serenity. I immediately feel regret for all the nights I have wasted, sitting inside watching Friends reruns at this precise time, instead of being out here enjoying the refined elegance of dusk.

  “So,” James continues. “How good are the locals at accepting outsiders? Do I have a chance, do you think?”

  “Mm.” I pretend to think about it. “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Whether you mind everybody knowing your business.”

  He shrugs. “I have nothing to hide.”

  “Then you’ll be fine. Just lend a hand when you’re asked, accept a drink when it’s offered, and stay out of the feud between the mayor and my mother.”

  “Your mother has a feud with the mayor?”

  “Going on ten years now.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “It’s really not, but if you insist on knowing I’ll explain it all, at a later date. Right now I just want to know if you intend on eating that food tonight or if we’re just taking it for a walk.”

  He holds up the paper-wrapped bundle. “Oh, I’m sorry, are you hungry?”

  “Starving. And this close to going feral and ripping it out of your hands.”

  “I really am intrigued by this story about your mother and the mayor, though. What if, in my ignorance, I make a faux pas and incur her wrath?”

  I sigh. “Look. Just promise her you’ll vote for the opposition come election time, whether you intend to or not, and everything will be just fine.”

  “OK.” He smiles. “We can eat now. How about here?” He points to a picnic table under the shade of a large pohutukawa tree.

  “Here will do just fine.” My stomach rumbles audibly. He laughs and places the food down, teasingly unwrapping it slowly. I sit on the side that faces out over the ocean and shuffle over as he sits beside me instead of opposite. I eagerly reach for a piece of golden battered fish and yelp when he smacks my hand away lightly.

  “Wait,” he scolds. “I haven’t said grace yet.”

  “Oh.” Chastened, I cross my hands and put them in my lap, looking down at them. I’m not sure whether to close my eyes or not, because I wasn’t raised religious and the only grace my father ever paused long enough to say was “Smells good, love.” I risk a sideways peek at James and he has his eyes shut, so I close mine as well.

  “Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost,” he says solemnly. “Whoever eats fastest gets the most.”

  It takes a second for me to understand what he’s just said, and when I do I my eyes fly open. He has picked up the piece of fish that I’d been going for, the biggest piece, and has already taken a bite.

  “Hey,” I protest, smacking him on the arm. “No fair.”

  He shrugs. “You snooze you lose.”

  “And there I was thinking you were a gentleman.”

  “I don’t know what gave you that idea.”

  I adopt a pitiful expression.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’ll feel bad.”

  “That’s the point.” I sniff and blink a few times.

  He sighs. “Here. If it means that much to you.” He proffers out what’s left of the piece of fish.

  I screw my face up at it. “I don’t want your leftovers.”

  “Suit yourself.” He throws the rest into his mouth and chews, his eyes alight with amusement. “Aren’t you eating?”

  Ten minutes later, there are only the scrappy, hard, and small chips left, which James throws to the seagulls. I rub my finger on the greasy white paper a few times and lick it, and he gives me a questioning look.

  “I like the salt.”

  “You know it’s bad for you, right?”

  I shrug. “Everything in moderation.”

  “So what are your other weaknesses?” He rolls up the paper into a little ball and looks around for a rubbish bin.

  “Is it boring if I say chocolate and wine?”

  “Not if it’s true.”

  I get gingerly to my feet. My lower back has started to ache, but I’m not ready to call it a night yet.

  He balls the newspaper up a bit tighter and does a basketball throw toward the rubbish bin. It misses and lands on the ground.

  “Pathetic,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Why do you think I’m a photographer and not an NBA player.”

  “So you can check out nude firemen?”

  He snorts as he bends to pick up the paper, putting it carefully into the rubbish bin this time. Then he gives me a pointed look. “There are other things I’d much rather check out.”

  Is he flirting? I’m so out of practice I’m unsure, but it feels like it. As good as it feels, though, it’s also confusing, and I must betray my uncertainty on my face because his eyes narrow knowingly.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “The last thing I want to do is make you feel uncomfortable.”

  I shake my head. “You don’t.”

  We gaze intently at each other for a whisker of time before his eyes drop to the ground and he swallows hard. He looks vulnerable, achingly so, and I want to step forward and try to wrap him in my arms, all of him, even though he is almost twice the size I am, and make him feel better.

  “Do you want me to be honest?” he asks softly, looking at my face again.

  I nod. “Always.”

  “I’m not sure why I’m here.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I mean, not here, here,” he clarifies. “I invited you, after all. It’s the motives behind the invitation I’m a little confused about.”

  “Motives?”

  “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

  “Not really.”

  “Shall we go for a walk? Burn off some of the ninety million calories we just consumed.”

  “You consumed, you mean. I was lucky to get a few chips
.”

  I joke to try to relax him, but there is a stiff set to his shoulder as he walks next to me that suggests he is still mulling over our brief conversation.

  “Cold?” he asks, when I shiver.

  “No.” I shake my head. “Just someone walking over my grave.”

  He doesn’t smile. “I’ve never understood that saying.”

  “Me neither,” I admit. “It’s just one of those things you say without thinking. Like ‘Bless you’ when someone sneezes.”

  He stops walking suddenly, but it takes me a moment to realize, so I stop a couple of steps ahead of him and turn, puzzled as to why he has stopped.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says earnestly. “Or upset you in any way.”

  “You haven’t.”

  “I know. I mean in the future. You know, if there was a…if we were to…”

  “OK.” I step back toward him, realizing that whatever it is he is trying to say will need to be coaxed out of him. “Take a deep breath.”

  He frowns. “I don’t need—”

  “Take a deep breath.”

  He sucks in air quickly, his eyes big as he waits for my permission to exhale again.

  “And release.”

  He blows out noisily.

  “Better?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then you didn’t do it properly.” I move to his side and place a hand on his chest, at the bottom of where I think his diaphragm would be. I pretend I don’t hear his sharp intake of breath as I touch him. “Right, breathe in again,” I tell him. “A proper, big breath. Right down to here.” I apply mild pressure to his chest. He turns his head to look down at me as he follows my instructions, and the expression in his eyes almost robs me of my own breath. I quickly look back at his chest and tell him sternly to breathe deeper.

  “You’re something special, Ava, you know that?” he says quietly after he exhales. “I’ve never met anyone else like you.”

  “A worldly traveler such as yourself?” I chuckle nervously. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “It’s true,” he insists. “I wouldn’t say it otherwise.”

  “You’re pretty spectacular yourself. You know, for a city guy.” I fall back on humor because I don’t know what else to say, or do. The way he’s making me feel is new to me.

  “Ava,” he says. “Look at me.”

  I can’t. I’m scared of seeing something in his eyes that reflects what I’m feeling. I’m more scared, though, that I won’t see it. My phone rings with a text alert and, relieved, I fumble in my back pocket, pulling it out to check the screen.

  “Kate,” I tell him. “Asking where I am.”

  “You didn’t tell your friends you were coming out with me?”

  “And have to endure the million questions beforehand and the post-mortem afterwards? No. I didn’t tell them.”

  “What if I was an ax murderer?”

  “Are you?”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t think so. Anyway, my mother would have avenged me in ways worse than anything you could have ever done.”

  He shudders as he laughs. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

  I quickly reply to Kate, simply saying I’m out with a friend and will be home soon. She texts back at the speed of light, as I knew she would.

  Friend? What friend?

  I don’t reply this time, instead putting the phone on silent and sliding it back into my pocket. “Sorry.”

  “It’s OK. It’s good that you have people who care so much about you.”

  The ache in my back is becoming more urgent, and as much as I don’t want to leave him, I know that I will suffer if I don’t get home and take pain relief and the weight off it now. The sun has almost disappeared over the horizon; its majestic colors spread across the sky in one last, triumphant hurrah. On cue, the street lights flicker on around us. The children have gone home, as have the fishermen. Soon, the first stars will appear in the sky.

  “I should get you home,” James says, reading my mind.

  “Yes, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Never be. You have nothing to be sorry for. Come on.” He reaches out and picks up my hand, tucking it through his arm like he did in the field that day. We walk like that, our hips occasionally bumping, back along the promenade to his car, the last one left in the car park outside the surf club.

  “This was nice,” I say once we are both inside the car and he is reaching to put the key in the ignition.

  He pauses to look at me. “Really?”

  “Yes. I’ve enjoyed myself.” I look down at my hands in my lap shyly. “I hope you did too.”

  “It was OK, I suppose.”

  I look at him sharply, feeling stricken. He is smiling, teasing.

  “I’m kidding.” He laughs. “Sorry. Yes, I’ve had a wonderful night.” He rubs his hand through his hair roughly. “Um, so I was wondering, what are you doing this weekend?”

  “This weekend?” I think quickly. I have my standard Sunday night meal date at my parents’ house, and a vague agreement with Kate to go curtain shopping. “Nothing that can’t be canceled.”

  “Good.” He smiles broadly. “That’s good. I’ll pick you up Saturday morning. Pack an overnight bag.”

  “Overnight?” My voice comes out higher-pitched than I intend.

  “Don’t worry,” he reassures. “I’m a gentleman, remember. I’ll book two rooms. Your virtue will remain intact.”

  “Oh.” I try not to sound disappointed. “That’s good, then.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  You can’t be serious.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well for one, you barely know the guy. He could be an ax murderer, for all you know.”

  I pause from folding a T-shirt neatly to pack in my small suitcase and stare at Kate. “Does he look like an ax murderer to you?”

  “Not really,” she admits. “But what does an ax murderer actually look like? Hm?”

  “I think it’s brilliant,” declares Amanda from where she is draped across the wicker chair in the corner of my bedroom. The morning sun is beaming through the blinds behind her, giving her an angelic halo effect that she doesn’t deserve. “He’s gorgeous.”

  The three of us pause to picture James and adopt similar dreamy expressions. “As gorgeous as he is,” Kate says sternly, shaking herself out of her reverie, “we still don’t know the first thing about him.”

  “Kate.” I put the last item of clothing in the case and zip it carefully, then walk to stand in front of where she is perched on the end of my bed. “I love you for being so protective. I really do. And I know your concern is coming from a caring place.”

  She smiles.

  “But seriously,” I continue, “if you try and ruin this for me I will kill you with an ax myself. Understood?”

  Amanda snorts with laughter while Kate gapes at me like a fish. She nods slowly.

  “Thank you.” I smile sweetly.

  “What time did he say he’d be here?” she asks meekly.

  “Ten.”

  “Where’s he taking you?” Amanda asks.

  “No idea. He didn’t say.”

  “You didn’t ask?”

  “I was just too excited by the invitation to even think about it.”

  “So is it, like, a date?”

  “Again, no idea.” I shrug. “The sensible side of me thinks, no way, absolutely not. Why would he be interested in me when I’m, you know?”

  Amanda pulls a sympathetic face. I sit down on the bed and Kate turns so I am facing them both.

  “But then there’s the way he looks at me. I’ve never been looked at like that before.”

  “Like how?”

  “Like…” I try to think of the words to explain it. “Like he thinks I’m the most interesting thing in the entire universe. Like he’s completely fascinated by me, and we could be standing in the middle of the Playboy Mansion and he’d still only have eyes for me.”

  Kate
and Amanda exchange an open-eyed look.

  “Wow,” says Kate.

  “I know. It’s hard to explain. I’m not really doing it justice.”

  “Look, Ava.” Kate shuffles over to pick up my hands and look earnestly into my eyes. “If that’s the case, if he is developing feelings for you, you need to stop and think about where this is going. It’s only going to end in hurt, for you both. But especially him. I know you like him, but can you really start something knowing what the future holds?”

  My shoulders sag. She’s right, of course.

  “Besides, I think you already have so much going on that you need to focus your energies on. Your health, of course, and the wedding.”

  “I don’t agree,” Amanda interjects loudly. “I say fuck it, don’t think about the future. Just make the most of the moment and if you enjoy his company as much as you say you do, then do whatever it is that makes you feel good and happy. It’s a hell of a cliché but it’s one you know all too well. Life is short. Don’t play it safe. Live wild.”

  “That kind of thinking is not fair on either Ava or James,” Kate tells her sharply. “It’ll only end in hurt.” She squeezes my hand gently. “You have us. We love you. Do you really need anything else right now?”

  I smile softly and squeeze her hand back. “You know I love you guys. And I’m so grateful to have you in my life, because I need you more than I ever have before. But this is different. This…feeling I get when I’m with James, it’s something I haven’t felt in a long time, if ever. I never expected this to happen, but he makes me feel alive. And I need that right now.”

  She sighs. “I guess I can understand that.”

  “I don’t want to hurt him, though.”

  “He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself,” Amanda scoffs.

  We all jump at a loud knock on the front door of the house.

  “He’s here.” Kate gets up, stating the obvious. “It’s not too late to change your mind.” She gives me a pointed look. “For his sake as much as your own.”

  I feel a brief surge of panic inside. What am I doing? Why did I think this was a good idea?

  “Ava,” Amanda says gently. I look at her familiar, comforting face. It grounds me, and the panic begins to recede. “You don’t know what he wants, or where he’s taking you. For all we know you could be worrying about something, or nothing at all. Don’t overthink it. Just follow your instincts like you’ve always told us to do.”