Finding Karma

by Stacy M Wray

  I watch Jeremy sleep for a minute, smiling when I think how different he seems from when he’s awake. He has an almost boyish look to him as I watch the rise and fall of his breathing. I’ve never known anyone like him. It didn’t take long for us to click this year, his constant teasing, as I quickly learned, was just his way of letting me know he liked bantering with me. Jeremy is definitely comfortable in his own skin, never pretending to be someone he’s not. I think that’s one quality I’ve always admired most about him – what you see is what you get.

  Reaching over, I place my hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him.

  “Hmm?”

  “Wake up, Jeremy.”

  He slowly lifts his head from his towel, one side of his cheek displaying fabric marks pressed into his skin. Trying to hold my laughter, I say, “I’m starving.”

  “Yeah, okay. Just give me a minute,” he mumbles.

  I get up and go to the car, grabbing my camera from the back seat. I want to remember this place. After taking several shots, I notice Jeremy turn over and stretch his arms clear above him. I snap a picture of him without him realizing it. I have a suspicious feeling it’s the only way to get his pic.

  He brings his arms down and I quickly move to my right, pretending to be focused on something else.

  “Did you just take my picture?”

  I lower my camera a little so I can look at him. “No,” I lie.

  “You did, too. You totally just took my picture.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Jeremy – I did not take your picture,” I try to say with a straight face.

  He walks with his arm stretched out and says, “Hand it over then and prove to me you did not just take my picture.” He’s trying to keep a straight face, too, although he’s doing a much better job of it than I am.

  I take off running to the car, laughing my ass off. I get in and tuck my camera away in my bag while I notice Jeremy grabs our towels. Walking towards me with a grin on his face, he tosses them in the back and throws his shirt on over his head.

  Reaching around to the back seat, I grab my shorts and shirt and put them on over my bathing suit, not wanting to take the time to change.

  Jeremy gets in just as I’m shimmying my shorts up my legs, zipping them quickly. He looks at me and says, “Next time you want to take a picture of my sexiness just ask. I’ll give you a good shot,” he says, winking at me.

  This does not even warrant a response.

  chapter twenty-four

  July 2008

  We roll into Baton Rouge early evening just one day before the Fourth of July, which the plan is to spend it in New Orleans. I’m not sure how we will pull this off since all of their hotels are booked solid. Jeremy keeps telling me he’ll think of something. I don’t want to be a Debby Downer, but I’m not relishing sleeping in the car, no matter how appealing spending the Fourth in the French Quarter sounds. I think we were lucky to find a room for tonight.

  Strolling through downtown, we’re looking for a place to eat dinner. Finally deciding on an eatery featuring a classic grill menu with plenty of seafood options, we’re thrilled when the option of eating on the outside patio is offered. As soon as we order our drinks, I pull my camera out of my purse and capture the musician on the corner playing an acoustic guitar – he’s very talented. Nothing like free entertainment while we dine.

  Jeremy’s had his face buried in his phone since we got here. “I think I’ve come up with something for lodging in New Orleans.”

  What? “You’re kidding. How?” Spending the Fourth in New Orleans would be epic – I just know. I envision the craziness, the people, the fireworks, my excitement escalating at the mere thought. But I don’t want Jeremy to get my hopes up, only to have them crushed if his plan doesn’t come through.

  He eyes me carefully, like he’s testing the waters. “Ever heard of couchsurfing?”

  “Couchsurfing? What the heck is couchsurfing?” I’m thinking Jeremy has breathed in one too many gas fumes when he’s been filling up the tank.

  “It’s kinda like VRBO and shit, but people offer up their couch or a spare room to people visiting their city. And it’s free.”

  Scrunching my face in an unbelieving knot, I try to wrap my head around the concept. “Really? Free? What’s the catch?”

  He reads off the website, “Their motto is ‘friends you haven’t met yet.’ People thought it would be cool to hang with other people from different parts of the world.” He looks up at me with a grin on his face. “All I have to do is fill out a profile, take our pics and see if anyone’s willing to take us in for the night.”

  My parents would crap if they knew I was considering this but I’ve got Jeremy with me…and it sounds kind of cool. Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “I’m good if you’re good.”

  Jeremy has just taken a drink of his iced tea when he almost chokes on it. “Seriously? I didn’t think you’d go for it.”

  “Well, as long as you think it’s okay…”

  “It’s fine, Karma. Everything is documented. If we get a bad vibe, we’ll just leave.”

  The corners of my mouth lift and spread in a wide grin. “So let’s fill out the profile.” I will be ‘glass half full’ on this one – it sounds like a cool concept.

  We take a while to finish our meals since Jeremy is typing in all the stuff for the couchsurfing. I opted for the coconut-crusted shrimp while he’s feasting on Cajun crab. He tells me to come sit by him a minute so he can take a selfie of us to put on the profile. “Let me see it before you upload it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it has to make a good first impression. You don’t want one of us to have food in our teeth or a big ol’ booger hanging out of our nose or something. We’d never get offered a couch. They’d be thinking I don’t want that booger ending up on my couch. Pass.”

  Jeremy looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. I don’t care. At least he shows me the picture. “You’re really weird sometimes, you know that?”

  I shrug. “Hey, this is a great pic. Okay…you can upload it.”

  Not only did Jeremy finish with the posting, but he also put it out there on Twitter to see if we’d get any bites that way. “Now we just wait.”

  Deciding to walk around downtown, we come upon the Baton Rouge Gallery and notice people spreading their blankets in front of a giant, inflated movie screen. Jeremy tugs on my elbow and we walk towards a poster that’s encased in glass. “I saw an ad for this in the hotel lobby. Supposed to be some kind of silent movie accompanied by music from a local band.”

  I continue reading about tonight’s movie. “It’s called Show People. Never heard of it.”

  Jeremy looks amused. “That’s because it’s from the twenties probably, the era of silent movies.”

  Oh…makes sense, I guess.

  “Let’s check it out – we don’t have anything else to do besides wander around.” He looks over his shoulder. “And look,” he says, pointing to a small concession stand, “free popcorn.”

  I watch the band set up and they look cool. Their name is painted on the drum in creative red lettering: The Hound Dogs. Okay, I’ll give the Hound Dogs a shot. “You had me at free popcorn.” He chuckles and we walk up to a petite, middle-aged lady with a bobbed hairstyle who takes our seven bucks and puts a stamp on the back of our hands. “Enjoy the show,” she says, to every person who receives a stamped hand.

  As soon as it’s dark enough to view the movie, the band plays while the opening credits appear on the makeshift movie screen. Jeremy and I sit cross-legged on the grass, popcorn sitting in the open space between our legs, smirking at each other. I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am: I can’t believe I’m sitting in Baton Rouge nearly at the Fourth of July watching a silent movie while listening to a very hip local band. Doesn’t get much better than this.

  After the movie ends, Jeremy and I take the long way back to the hotel. I wasn’t sure about the whole silent movie thing, but it turned out to be entertaining wit
h the band playing right beside it. Our gait becomes slow since Jeremy’s reading stuff on his phone. Checking my own, I see I’ve missed a call from Braden during the movie, the first time it’s happened since we left. I’ll wait and call him when we get back to the hotel, shoving the small guilt to the wayside.

  “Bingo! We’ve got ourselves a couch!” Jeremy’s stops in the middle of the sidewalk, his fist stretched up in the air, elation all over his face as he turns.

  “Already? Oh my God, let me see.” My nose is practically pressed to his phone, excitement coursing through my veins. This is the best news.

  Jeremy taps on his phone after bringing up the picture of our hosts. They look to be a young couple in their mid-twenties and have a spare bedroom we can share. I glance at Jeremy and he stares back at me with a sheepish grin. “It’ll be fine; I’ll sleep on the floor. At least we have a place to stay.”

  I nod in agreement, pleased we aren’t forced to sleep in the car. Jeremy’s shaking his head in disbelief, typing back a response to accept our “couch.” “You’re welcome, Hippie Girl, for an awesome Fourth of July.”

  He’s dripping with smugness, so proud of himself for his solution to our problem. Bumping him on the shoulder with mine, causing him to sidestep, I tell him, “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just wait and see first, smarty-pants.” But inside I’m jumping for joy, so pumped for what tomorrow promises.

  Once we’re back in the hotel and in our rooms, I connect with Braden who is still up since they don’t have practice tomorrow due to the holiday. I decide not to fill him in on our accommodations for the Fourth until after the fact, just in case he’s not on board. He tells me one of his teammates is having a party to celebrate, and, for the first time, my excitement wanes a little, suddenly feeling the distance between us once again, remembering kissing him under the fireworks last year in a park back home. What a difference a year makes.

  After a decent night’s sleep, Jeremy and I are back on the road, making the short trek to New Orleans, thrilled to be spending the whole day in the French Quarter. In just under a couple of hours, we pull up to the house of Steve and Darcy Lindley, our couchsurfing hosts. It’s on a quaint street close to the historic downtown. Jeremy twists the keys in the ignition, turning the car off. Turning, he says, “Ready to do this?”

  Glancing up at the limestone-bricked house, I tell him, “Yep.” We reach for our door handles, get out of the car and approach the front door, Jeremy ringing the bell. In just a few seconds, we’re greeted by an enthusiastic, nice-looking guy, who holds the door open, and says, “Jeremy, Karma – please, come on in.”

  After stepping in, his wife enters the room. “Welcome to New Orleans!” She’s adorable, her warmth radiating throughout the room. Her complexion compares to soft pink rose petals, her eyes shine with the hues of the ocean. Silky brown hair is swept up on top of her head, small pieces hanging alongside her cheeks as she extends her hand to Jeremy first. “I’m Darcy Lindley. I’m so glad you’re here.” While Jeremy shakes her hand, I can’t help but notice the way her husband looks at her, like the sun rises and sets on her. She turns and says, “You must be Karma – what an absolutely great name.” Her hand is as warm as she is.

  “Thank you so much for allowing us to stay,” I tell her.

  Swatting her hand in the air, she says, “Nonsense. We love taking in strangers – what better way to meet people from all over the world.” She turns to her husband. “Steve and I have been doing this for a few years now with mostly great experiences.” She winks at him as he pulls her to his side.

  Steve looks to be older than Darcy, his dark hair longer on top, swept to the side. He’s very tan, his eyes crinkling with lines as he smiles at his wife. Jeremy chats with them as my eyes wander around the room, just now noticing all the pictures of Darcy displayed here and there. Beautiful, stunning pictures. All nude. Jeremy hasn’t noticed yet, still chatting about some their more interesting tenants. The portraits are so mesmerizing I can hardly force my eyes away. These aren’t just nude photos, but exquisite art, so breathtakingly real and true in the way the lighting has been captured.

  When I turn my attention back to our hosts, Steve is staring at me. “She’s beautiful, which makes for a great muse. I hope they don’t make you uncomfortable.”

  Shaking my head, I tell him, “They’re stunning. I’ve never seen anything like them before…the lighting…”

  He grins. “That’s my specialty. You must know a thing or two about photography to notice such a thing.”

  “You could say I sort of stumbled into it, but I’ve been told I have a good eye.” Who am I kidding? I’m a complete novice but seeing his work makes me wish I were more. Just then I notice the room is quiet, Jeremy finally realizing what surrounds him. My eyes lock on his face, and for the first time, I think he’s rendered speechless, in unchartered waters. I almost feel sorry for him, his discomfort cloaking us all.

  Darcy touches his arm, “If it makes you more comfortable, we can take them down.”

  Jeremy can hardly look her in the eye, as he mumbles, “No, it’s fine.”

  Steve and Darcy exchange a look and then Steve claps his hands together. “What do you say we get your bags out of the car, Jeremy?” And just like that, the unease is gone, the guys heading out the door like we all weren’t just looking at Darcy unclothed.

  She leads me to the back patio where she has lunch waiting for us. As I take a seat at the round glass table, I can hardly believe what we’ve stumbled upon – the Lindleys are great. After the guys join us, we spend the next hour getting to know each other, explaining to our new friends about our road trip.

  “I think it’s fantastic,” Steve says. “I wish I would’ve done that right out of high school or even college.”

  After lunch, we pile in Steve and Darcy’s SUV, heading downtown. We walk around for a while, checking out some of the local shops, even stopping at one of the snowball stands for a frozen treat – New Orleans’ version of a snow cone. On the way back to their home, Steve points out his studio.

  “Oh, wow. You have your own studio?” I probably sound like an idiot. I should’ve realized he was a professional, that photography wasn’t just a hobby.

  He looks at me through the rearview mirror. “You want to stop and see it?”

  I look around at the others in the car then meet his eyes. “Sure…if you don’t mind.” He immediately turns left, pulling into an alley that leads to the back of the studio and we all get out. Unlocking a back door, we follow him in as he leads us to the front of the studio, flipping on lights as we go.

  “This is where all the magic happens,” he says, with his arms spread wide. The walls are painted a soft gray and several rolls of backdrop screens line the back of the room. Silver-lined, white and gold-tinted umbrellas surround the center, as well as many softboxes to diffuse and soften the light.

  Steve pulls a backdrop out, walking backward to spread it. After placing a stool on it, he says, “Have a seat, Darcy.” She walks to the stool, sitting gracefully, her knees together and to the side. After flicking several lights on and angling some umbrellas, he grabs his camera and takes shots of Darcy. “Now if you’ll just remove your top, sweetie,” he says. You could hear a pin drop as all the air gets sucked out of the room. Jeremy locks eyes with me, his widening with each passing second. My eyes dash to Darcy to see if she’s taking her top off, but instead I detect a slight smirk on her face before Steve yells, “Just kidding! Man, you guys are too easy.” I notice Jeremy shakes his head at Steve, smiling as he studies the floor.

  Steve motions, still chuckling. “Come here, Karma, I want you to check out this shot.” When I’m beside him, he turns his camera towards me so I can see the image on his screen. “It’s a nice shot, right?” I nod my response as he walks to one of the lights, turning it off, then positions the umbrellas in a different arrangement, moving the softbox forward. Walking back in front of Darcy, he takes a few more pictures then shows me his screen again. “See the d
ifference?”

  My eyes widen as I look up at him. “Yes. Oh my gosh, that made her look so much softer.” My eyes flick to the screen again, not believing the difference.

  Steve puts his camera back on the table and says, “Okay, now who wants to celebrate the Fourth New Orleans style?”

  After piling back into the SUV, Steve and Darcy ask if we’d like to join them for a cookout before the fireworks tonight. Since we’re trying to stretch our budget, we accept right away. They have been nothing short of great since we got here, and I know I will owe Jeremy a huge thank you tonight for signing us up for couchsurfing, just like he said I would.

  Back at the house, Steve and Jeremy man the grill while I help Darcy make potato salad and deviled eggs. Darcy pops her head out the door to the patio. “You boys want a beer?”

  My ears perk up, waiting to see what Jeremy’s response is. I hear Steve say, “Jeremy?” He must’ve nodded because Darcy is taking two beers out of the fridge. Smiling at me, she asks, “You want a beer, Karma, or would you rather have wine with me?”

  Thinking it’s cool of them to let us drink, I tell her, “I’ll have some wine, thanks.”

  She takes the beers to the patio then comes back in and pulls a bottle from a wine cooler. “Moscato good?”

  “Perfect.” I don’t really know much about wine but I don’t want to look stupid. I’ll drink whatever she puts down in front of me. This is starting to really feel like a celebration. As Darcy hands me a glass, she holds hers up and says, “Happy Fourth of July,” as we clink our glasses together, both of us giggling like teenagers. Oh, wait…I am a teenager.

  “So, how long have you and Jeremy been together?” She slices a tomato, waiting for my answer.

  Almost choking on my wine, I say, “Oh, Jeremy isn’t my boyfriend – we’re just friends.”