Pictures of You

by Juliette Caron

  “I find that hard to believe…but funny you say that. It’s been more than three years for me,” he said, running a finger down the side of his glass of water, collecting condensation on his fingertip.

  Three years? I was shocked. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Suddenly I feel like I’m in an AA meeting. Hi, my name is September. It’s been one year since my last date.”

  “Hello, September,” we said simultaneously. We broke into loud snickers. People sitting at neighboring tables threw us curious glances. A middle-age woman tossed us a chastising glare.

  “Three years. Wow. Why? If you don’t mind my asking,” I said, taking a long sip of ice water.

  “It’s really pathetic. Not first date material. Trust me, you don’t want to know. It’s been awhile for you, too. What’s your excuse?”

  “I had a boyfriend for nine months and then we broke up about five months ago and, well, it’s complicated.”

  “This is going to be a long night,” he joked, sighing theatrically.

  I played along. “It really is. We could leave now, before we bring each other down with our depressing tales of celibacy.”

  “Tempting. But I’m dying to know: Why did you agree to go out with me? Do you have a thing for guys with a death wish?”

  “Just cute guys with a death wish.”

  He smiled, but he didn’t look amused. He leaned forward, resting elbows on the table, his face serious. “No more kidding around. Why are you really here, September?”

  I felt like a little mouse caught stealing cheese. Should I tell him the truth? A version of the truth? A flat-out lie? I opened my mouth to begin, then closed it. I tried again. “You want the truth?”

  “Yes, I do. And you’d better not say you’re here to get me to change my mind. I’ve made up my mind and neither you nor anyone else can stop me.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

  “Okay. Then I’ll be completely honest with you. I’m here for two reasons. The first is obvious. I do want to stop you. I—”

  “Then you’re wasting your time.” He set his jaw.

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” I said, losing my confidence.

  “And the other reason?”

  I wrung my napkin some more. “The other reason is…” I hesitated, knowing it would sound incredibly selfish. “I was still hoping I could somehow get you to go to my parents’ party.”

  He shook his head and growled in frustration. “I already told you—”

  “I know, I know. Look. Adrien…Never mind.” I threw my napkin down in defeat. The meal arrived just in time.

  The next half an hour was consumed by polite small talk. I kept a forced smile on my lips, but my eyes occasionally gave away my true feelings. I was sad, frustrated. Annihilated. I didn’t want to like him. I didn’t want to become emotionally invested. I wished him to be boring, uninteresting. But as the night wore on, he became increasingly fascinating. I liked his nervous ticks, the way he raked his hand through his hair and twisted the silver ring on his left index finger. Nervous energy he was unable to channel. He seemed confident, but vulnerable. Cocky and sarcastic one minute, then humble and embarrassed the next. If Adrien was a book, he’d be a page turner, a mystery that kept a person up until three in the morning.

  We swapped a few high school stories. He graduated two years before me. We spoke of our jobs. I told him I was an aspiring artist, a photographer, specifically. I photographed people, found them intriguing—and cleaned restrooms to pay the rent. He told me that in addition to writing, he sold used cars on the side.

  Surprised, I said, “Really? A used car salesman? One of the more honorable professions of our day.”

  “I didn’t really want to be a car salesman. I just needed a job and it was there.” I snickered. “What?” he said, shoving a forkful of chicken tikka masala into his mouth.

  “I’m picturing you in a brown polyester suit. With tacky white shoes,” I said, nibbling on a piece of bread.

  “Very funny.”

  “Are you a shady salesman? Would you sell me a clunker? Overcharge me?”

  “You’d have to find out for yourself. Are you looking for a car?”

  “You don’t seem like the used car salesman type.”

  He gave me a sloppy grin. “I’m not the used car salesman type. Not at all. How do you like the aloo gobi?”

  “It’s divine,” I said, closing my eyes for a moment, savoring it.

  “Good. Sometimes taking risks pays off.”

  “Sometimes it does,” I said around a mouth full of cauliflower.

  “I’m usually not this bold, but I wanted to tell you from the first moment I saw you at that art store that, well, I thought you were really cute. Beautiful even,” he said, clearing his throat, fidgeting with his fork.

  “You’re lying,” I said, stunned. How could someone that handsome think I was beautiful? He was totally out of my league.

  “I mean it,” he whispered, touching my hand for a second.

  “Thank you.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  I studied him thoughtfully. For a moment he looked completely happy. Free from cares. His eyes even sparkled. Seeing this side of him made me sad. It was such a waste, watching a guy as likable as Adrien self-destruct. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t want to fight again. I hated confrontation. But this was his life at stake—I had to do something. I opened my mouth and before I knew it, the words fell out. “Adrien, don’t get mad, but…you’re a really cool guy. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I really think you should talk to someone.” My hands were shaking now. He frowned, set his fork down. I pulled Rose’s card from my purse and slid it across the table. “My friend is a shrink. I told her about you. She’d really like to meet you. She’s willing to see you free of charge.”

  “I’m sorry, September, but I didn’t come here for this.” He stood, his napkin falling to the floor. He threw a fifty onto the table.

  “Adrien, wait—”

  “I gotta go.” Like a bug caught in floodlight, he fled the room. I called after him, but he never looked back.

  13

  My body quaked like a rusty carnival ride as I washed the makeup from my face and brushed my teeth. Tears escaped my eyes as I slipped into my monkey pajamas and slid into my tightly made bed, rubbing my feet on the flannel sheets. I inhaled the scent of my pillow. I took comfort in it, its scent always smoothed things over, righted the wrongs in the world.

  It was only nine o’clock, but I went to bed early, too spent and distracted to accomplish anything. The reruns on TV failed to put me into a stupor. I closed my eyes but slumber was nowhere near the neighborhood. I wanted to hang out with Mary, she’d help me get my mind off things, but she was at work. It was funny I practically hated her at one time and now I found her presence oddly comforting. She never failed to make me laugh with her unusual sense of humor and her random, inappropriate comments. I was finally understanding what Abby had seen in her.

  My thoughts kept wandering back to Adrien and the crazy way our evening ended. Adrien was going to kill himself and I couldn’t stop him. Each time I tried to reach out, to help, he pushed me away. I’d known him for two days—not even full days—and already I felt strangely drawn to him. His haunted green eyes were compelling. His laugh infectious. I wanted to know his story. What had turned him into a tortured soul, ready to take his own life? What caused him so much grief?

  As stupid as this sounded, I could see myself falling for the guy. The suicidal part aside, Adrien seemed to be the complete package. Sweet, smart, funny and a little eccentric—just the way I like them. And he definitely wasn’t lacking in the looks department. But loving him would be like taking a trip to nowhere. Juliet falling for Romeo, after reading the end of the story first. Maybe that was the appeal. No commitment required. No long-term investment necessary. I could love him for two weeks and move on.

  I sat up abruptly. It dawned on me that I didn’t have Adrien’s phone
number, let alone his address. Did he even have a phone? I realized then that I’d never seen him with one. Had he joined any social networks online? Would I ever see him again? A lightning jolt of panic shot through me. I had to see him again. I had to stop him from hurting himself. I couldn’t give up so easily. But how would I find him?

  I crawled out of bed. Grabbed a glass of tap water. I tried the phonebook first. There were four Adrien Gray’s listed. I glanced at the clock on the microwave. 9:07. Not too late to call. I called all four numbers. I got two machines. One man sounded elderly, the other had a thick English accent. One guy answered with a tired hello. His voice was much lower than the Adrien I had spent the evening with. The last number was disconnected.

  Online I scanned a number of social sites. I found twenty-two Adrien Gray’s, some with variations in spelling. None of them bore a resemblance to my Adrien. I spent forty minutes searching Google and came up empty handed. My breath quickened as something relevant surfaced: Adrien was a used car salesmen. I glanced at the time in the bottom right side of my computer screen. 10:58 PM. I’d start calling used car dealerships first thing tomorrow morning.

  ***

  A familiar ringing noise pushed me out of a pleasant dream. The phone.

  I reached for it, falling out of bed. “Hello?”

  “Are you okay?” I recognized the voice immediately. It was Chris. He seemed genuinely worried.

  “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be okay?” I rubbed my aching hip.

  He sounded impatient. “You never called me last night. To tell me about your date.”

  I let out a big, squeaky-toy yawn. “Oh. I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

  “Of course you were supposed to. Isn’t that what best friends do?”

  I smiled. He’d never actually referred to me as his best friend before. The words warmed me like wool blanket in the Alaska wilderness. But then I found myself frowning. Chris was becoming a best friend. Sort of. Or something like a best friend. Was I cheating on Abby? “I guess you’re right.”

  “So how did it go? Do you like him? Are you going out again? Was he a gentleman? He didn’t try anything, did he?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. One question at a time.” Chris was like that. Like a protective older brother. Only not quite a year older and not even distantly related to me.

  “Do you like him?”

  I sighed. How much should I tell him? Nothing, I decided. I didn’t want to reveal the crazy secret, after all, I had my reputation to protect. Plus I was enjoying the sudden attention Chris slathered on me since I told him about Adrien. “It went…good. And yes, I think I like him.”

  “What do you mean by good? Will you be going out again?” Did I hear a pinch of panic in his voice? His reaction surprised me. What was his deal? I paused, once again weighing my options. Should I tell him? I felt bad for lying, but I didn’t exactly feel like showing Chris how pathetic I was. He knew I hadn’t been out with a guy since John dumped me. He knew about my traumatic childhood. That I felt completely misunderstood by my own family. That I sometimes even wondered if I was adopted. He knew about the accident and how screwed up I’d become as a result. That I was a control freak and naively idealistic. That I had grandiose dreams of becoming a hot-shot photographer. That was enough. He didn’t need to know I was lame enough to start liking a nut job.

  “It’s possible…but he has plans for October second, so it looks like I’m going to have to show up to my parents’ party alone.”

  “Ah, September, that’s too bad. I know how hard this is for you. I really wish I could go with you. But you know Megan.”

  “It’s okay. I understand. I know you’d be there for me in a heartbeat if you could.” I did understand. Although it was disappointing—terrifying actually—to face my family and my ex alone, without a date. To endure April’s gloating and John’s worried, sympathetic looks. But I admired Chris for being so faithful to his girlfriend. It was a trait I wished John had.

  I heard a soft voice in the background. It was Megan. “Who’re you talking to Chris?”

  “Got to go,” he whispered. He hung up before I could respond.

  I ate two graham crackers and a banana for breakfast as I proceeded to call every used car dealership within a thirty mile radius. Twenty minutes into my ridiculous undertaking I felt like I won the lottery. “Mike’s Okay Cars, can I help you?”

  “Hello, I was wondering if an Adrien Gray works there?”

  “Yes, but he’s on break. Would you like me to grab him?”

  “No, thanks. That won’t be necessary.”

  ***

  “Hello. Can I help you? Were you looking for something specific?”

  I shaded my eyes against the hopeful noon sun. My heart clobbered my rib cage the instant I saw his face. Each time I saw him, he was more beautiful than the last. His sheepish smile made me weak in the knees. When I dropped my hand, a look of recognition moved across his face.

  “Um, I’m looking for a car. Something affordable.”

  “September? What are you doing here?” He furrowed his brow.

  Guiltily I turned away, pretending to check out a primeval Ford. With water-stained seats, a crack in the windshield and nothing left of a paint job, it looked like it should’ve been put to rest years ago.

  He smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re really here to buy a car.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. If only he knew. I gave up on the whole driving thing since the accident. Well, since the panic attack, since test driving that car with John. Anxiety was another fun perk that often linked arms with tragedy. I had recurring car accident nightmares, many replaying Abby’s last moments. Some with other loved ones dying. These days I even struggled to remain calm as a passenger. I wondered if it would be socially acceptable to wear protective gear on public transportation.

  Adrien laughed, but he eyed me suspiciously. “Are you stalking me now? I should’ve made a banner proclaiming my death wish years ago. Didn’t know it would make me so popular with the ladies.”

  I groaned at his dumb joke. “Tell me about this one,” I said, pointing to the Ford. Why did I feel more nervous around him now than ever?

  “This one’s a lemon. The engine’s shot. I’m not selling it to you.” He laughed that silly laugh I knew I could never tire of. A heh-heh-heh, followed by a sharp inhale that reminded me of a dying donkey. He laid a palm on the hood and watched me play out my charade. I snuck glances at him as I examined the car. He wore a white shirt with a pair of light green slacks and an emerald tie. His hair was messy as usual, his jaw especially prominent in the midday sunlight.

  “You look pretty happy for someone who’s so depressed,” I said, peering into the side window, pretending to check the mileage.

  “Looks can be deceiving. I even have my entire family fooled.” He flashed me a sexy grin. Did he know he was flirting? Maybe I should warn him that could be dangerous under the circumstances. He examined my face as he spoke. “I left home when I was seventeen. I graduated early.” Oh great. So he’s super smart, too. What’s not to like about this guy? “We’re not very close. I sort of pushed them away years ago.”

  “So they don’t know of the turmoil you’re in?”

  He shrugged. He drew circles in the gravel with his shoe.

  A man with splotches of oil on his balding head interrupted. “Adrien, there’s a couple over there looking at the black Honda. Can you help them out when you get a minute? I have to take off.”

  “Sure thing, Mike.”

  Mike wiped his head with a dirty bandana. “I should be back in forty minutes.” He turned to me. “Adrien here will take care of you.”

  “Yes, I’m sure he will.” We watched Mike jog through the lot, zigzagging through exhausted, shoddy cars. Now I got the name. Mike’s Okay Cars. Mike’s Good Cars or Mikes Great Cars just wouldn’t fit.

  “Look, I’m not really here for a car,” I said, feeling rushed now. I shoved my hands into the kangaroo pouch
of my hoodie.

  “I didn’t think you were.” Adrien gazed at me, his face unreadable.

  “I’d better go in a minute. Let you get back to work. But…the reason I’m here. I wanted to see you again,” I stammered.

  “Wow, you’re a strange girl. You know that? I like you September, but let’s get real here…Maybe if we met a few years ago…”

  I bit my lip. “Is that a no?”

  “Why do you want to go out again? So you can play the hero and stop me from hurting myself? Because if you are, then I don’t have time for you.”

  “Ideally, yes, I would like to change your mind. But I see it’s useless. Going nowhere.” I kicked the old Ford’s back tire.

  He frowned, inhaled sharply. “Good. You’re right. Nowhere. If you don’t mind, that couple needs my attention.”

  “Yes. Right. Goodbye then, Adrien,” I said, defeated. I brushed past him as I left, angry tears filling my eyes.

  14

  “September, wait.”

  I spun around to see Adrien running after me. His emerald tie swung back and forth like a happy dog’s tail.

  “What?” I wasn’t sure whether to feel annoyed or triumphant. I guess I felt a little of both.

  “Okay,” he said, raising his eyebrows, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “Okay, what?”

  He was slightly winded. “Okay let’s go out again. But only if you promise me something.”

  “What?” I eyed him suspiciously.

  “Promise me you won’t try to stop me.” He folded his arms, his eyes adhered to mine. He was serious, I saw it in his face, in his clenched jaw, the way his eyes met mine evenly. There was no stopping him.

  Was it worth it? To spend a few days with a guy who’d just abandon me like John and Abby? I swallowed. Suddenly I was super thirsty. Fur coated the inside of my mouth. I needed water and pronto. Looking around me, I wondered where I might find it. I noted a fast food restaurant across the street. A guy in a hamburger suit dancing like a drunken ape waved an advertisement in the air: Cheeseburgers 2 for $3. To the right of that, a bagel stand. Did they have water? I was sure they would. I sighed, meeting Adrien’s eyes again. “Adrien, you can’t ask that of me.”