by Amber Garza
He lowered himself onto the couch, setting the equipment down, and I followed suit. Mom buzzed around like a bee, nervous energy radiating off of her in waves. I shifted uncomfortably, pulling the bottom of my dress down over my bare thighs. Carter’s proximity made my heart speed up. When my gaze caught on his face once more it became clear to me why I felt the way I did. It was because he was good looking. What I felt was lust, plain and simple. Since I’d spent my childhood in captivity and my teen years afraid of my own shadow, I had never even had a crush on a boy before, much less lusted after one. This was a new feeling for me. And one I didn’t like at all. I couldn’t be attracted to this stranger. I didn’t know anything about him, and I wasn’t about to trust someone I didn’t know. The last time I’d done that it had destroyed me. I couldn’t let that happen again. I needed to spend time with flowers, plants and nature. Things that couldn’t harm me.
“We’re huge fans of your photography, Carter,” Mom said, sweeping her arm out over the magazines carefully arranged on the coffee table. I rolled my eyes. Mom had insisted on buying every magazine with one of Carter’s pictures in it before he arrived. She said it was to make a good impression. I thought it looked like ass kissing. By the smug smile on Carter’s face, I’d say he agreed with me.
“Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? Water?” Mom’s hands fluttered nervously over her neck, fingering the gold chain she always wore.
Oh my god. Mom was going to overwhelm the poor guy. Too bad Dad had to go into work today. He was the only person who could reel Mom in when she got like this. I squirmed in my seat.
“No, thank you.” Carter turned to me. “If it’s okay with you, Aspen, I’d actually like to get to work.”
Of course he did. He was probably counting down the minutes until he could get out of here. Which was fine by me. The sooner he took my picture, the sooner this whole thing would be over. Then I could change out of this silly dress and get back outside.
I nodded in response.
Mom clapped her hands together. “Okay. I’ll leave you to it.” She glided out of the room, leaving a trail of floral perfume in her wake.
Carter stood up and fiddled with his equipment. Unsure of what to say or do, I stared at my hands while clasping and unclasping them in my lap. My fingernails were clean, my palms devoid of dirt and grass stains. It made me feel naked, exposed. Sighing, I stared out the front window, imagining I was running in the grass right now instead of stuck inside. The click of a camera startled me. I whipped my head in Carter’s direction as he lowered the camera from his face.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I didn’t know we’d started.”
“We didn’t.” His gaze was intense, so unlike the way he’d looked at me before. If I was a window, the drapes had now been closed so he couldn’t look through me any longer. “It was just a practice shot to test the lighting.”
I nodded.
“Besides, I couldn’t resist capturing the expression on your face a moment ago,” he added.
My cheeks flamed.
“What were you looking at?” His gaze flickered to the window.
“Nothing,” I answered quickly. He’d never understand my fascination with the outdoors. From the looks of him, he probably liked it inside where his white shirt couldn’t get dirty and his pants would stay perfectly pressed. Not many people my age liked to run around outside and roll around in the grass.
He cleared his throat. “Are you comfortable?”
I shrugged, unsure of what he meant. Was he asking if I was comfortable sitting on the couch? Or comfortable with him being here? I suppose it didn’t matter. The answer to both would be a resounding “no.”
“I guess,” I finally squeaked out.
“We can get some shots of you on the couch. Maybe a couple by the window.” He flashed me a quick smile. “I promise to make it as painless as possible.”
I was sure he thought his little joke would make me more at ease, but he was wrong. In fact, sarcasm and teasing usually made me more uncomfortable. I didn’t know what to do. I’d missed out on too many years of it, I guess. Besides, right now I wanted to get this whole thing over with.
“Okay.” I fidgeted with the bottom of my dress. The smile slipped from Carter’s face and he stared at me a minute, his lower lip puckering out a little. Unnerved, I looked away, my eyes landing on the window once again. A bird flew by, its wings flapping in the breeze. As it careened across the blue sky, my chest tightened as longing filled me.
“You know what?” Carter’s voice forced me back into the room. I turned in his direction. He held his camera in one hand, and ran the other through his thick, brown hair. “The lighting isn’t that great in here. Why don’t we go outside?”
It was like he told me I won the lottery or something. My heart swelled, and I could already feel the sun beating down on my skin. Smiling, I stood and then ushered him to the back door. The minute my sandal-clad feet hit the back deck my chest expanded. Warm air brushed over my skin, as clean air filled my senses. My lips curled slightly at the edges as I walked across the deck toward the stairs leading to the grass. As I stepped onto it, I longed to take my shoes off and feel the feathery reeds in between my toes. Lifting my head, I allowed the sun to warm my face.
“Now this is perfect. Much better than the family room.”
I craned my neck to look at Carter. His gaze was trained on me, and my cheeks flushed slightly.
“The lighting?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, continuing to stare at me. “Among other things.” Without expanding on what he meant, he lifted the camera until half his face disappeared behind it.
My breath hitched in my throat. Was I supposed to be posing or something? “Um…what do you want me to do?”
“Nothing yet. I’m going to take some test shots. Just act natural.”
Natural? Nothing about this was natural. As I watched him I found myself fascinated by his job. What would it be like to take pictures all day long? To be a part of recording moments in such a profound way. Even though I’d been irritated with Mom for buying all those magazines, the truth was that I’d enjoyed looking at Carter’s photographs. They were stunning. Self-conscious, I rubbed my lips together and fingered the bottom of my hair.
Carter took the camera down, uncovering his face. Once again, I was struck with how good looking he was. “It’s beautiful out here.” His gaze swept the yard. “Ah, I thought I smelled sweet peas.”
I followed his gaze to my bright pink flowers lining the back fence. Their fragrance reached my nose as if his words had conjured up their scent. “You know flowers?”
“A little.” He dropped his camera, holding it by his side.
“I spent my morning pruning those rose bushes over there by the guesthouse.” I pointed in the direction of them.
“Is that where you stay?”
I nodded. “It gives me some freedom at least.” Lowering my head, I felt stupid. What kind of adult lives with their parents? “I’m not quite ready to be on my own.”
“That makes sense.”
I bit my lip. “I know it’s been ten years, but it’s still hard, you know?”
He moved closer to me. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re very brave.”
THREE
Brave.
In the weeks and months following my escape, I’d been called brave more times than I could count. But I never felt brave. Not at all.
Eve was the brave one. Not me. She was the one who risked her life to get us out of that hell-hole. All I did was take advantage of the situation. But I never said any of that out loud. In fact, I never spoke about Eve at all. It was too painful. Instead, I accepted it, smiled and nodded, like I was doing now.
“Thanks,” I spoke in a hushed tone, willing away the painful memories. This was precisely the reason I never wanted to do this damn article. The kidnapping was a part of my past that I wanted to bury in the ground for good. Maybe grow a plant or two over the top of it
so no one would suspect anything was down there. I didn’t want to take a shovel and dig it up, exposing it for the world to see. So why was I doing that now? Inwardly I groaned, wishing I could put a stop to this entire thing. But then my gaze landed on the kitchen window, at Mom’s face staring through the glass. My insides twisted, and I dropped my head.
“What kind of flowers are those?” Carter’s voice drew me back.
I lifted my chin, following the invisible line drawn from his index finger. “Peonies.” My feet moved as if the flowers were drawing me forward. When I reached them I ran the tips of my fingers over one of the silky petals. This was where I felt safe, comfortable. I sometimes wished I could grow a tower of plants, crawl inside of them and never leave. Or I could be like Jack and the Beanstalk and climb one right up into the clouds.
A clicking noise caught my attention. My head bounced up. Carter had the camera pointed at me, the lens resembling a giant eye. I blinked.
“Did you plant all these?” He didn’t pull the camera from his face, and he reminded me of a cyclops as his lips moved under the round lens.
“Yes.” I glanced back down at them, touching the stems. My hair slipped over my shoulder. Another click.
“You definitely have a green thumb.”
My mom said that all the time, and I always thought it was a funny expression. But she was right. I half expected to see my thumb change color at some point. As I stared at my hands, Carter fired off a few more clicks.
“Mine are not green,” Carter continued. “They are white and calloused from always holding this camera.” He let out a gruff chuckle.
Releasing the flower, I studied him. The camera clicked again, and then he removed it from his face.
“I am notorious for killing flowers.” He smiled. “Maybe you could teach me what I’m doing wrong.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” I breathed, knowing they were flippant words with no meaning. After today I’d never see Carter again, much less teach him about flowers. A slight breeze kicked up and sent my hair flying. I didn’t bother batting it out of my face the way Mom always did. I let it swirl around me, catching on my eyelashes. I heard the camera going off as I stood in the middle of the yard with my hair billowing around my face.
“Stay right there,” Carter’s tone was breathless. “You’re perfect.”
His wording caught me off guard. I was perfect? Or my pose was perfect? Dammit, what did he mean by that? My head spun. No one had ever called me perfect before. When the breeze quieted, my hair settled, and finally I brushed it away from my face.
“Does it take your mind off of everything?” he asked.
“What?”
“Gardening. Does it help you forget?”
“Yeah. It does.” Click. I averted my eyes from him, instead staring across the yard. It was unsettling to talk to a camera. “When I first escaped I spent all my time outside. I still spend as much time as I can out here, but sometimes I am forced to go indoors.” A light laugh escaped through my lips. “Out here with the plants and flowers I feel free. I feel alive.” I closed my eyes, breathing in deeply. This time I barely heard the click of the camera. “He kept me inside all the time.” I had no idea why I was sharing all of this with Carter. I hadn’t even been this open with the reporter, and he had been fishing for responses. But something about Carter’s calm demeanor made it seem okay to talk.
“The man who kidnapped you?” His voice was tender, soft.
Without opening my eyes, I nodded. I was grateful that he hadn’t uttered his name. I hated when people called him by name. It was a name I never wanted to hear again. I liked to think of him as a nobody. Nameless. Faceless. It was easier that way. That damn reporter insisted on using the name of my captor over and over again as he interviewed me. Every time he said it, it was like he was taking a dagger and piercing me with it, twisting it crudely around my insides.
“It must have been awful for you.”
My eyes sprung open. Now I was actually glad he was hidden behind the camera so I didn’t have to look into his eyes as I said, “Yeah, it was.” The familiar panic rose up in me, choking me and making my chest tighten. I forced out a breath and cleared my throat. My therapist always warned me against allowing my mind to travel back there. The advice she always gave was to stay in the present moment. So I did. “But now I’m out, and I’m safe.” The reminder caused a small smile to flicker.
He fired off another shot. “Smile for me again.”
My lips trembled as I tried, but it was no use. Smiling didn’t come easily to me, and being forced made it even more difficult. Carter lowered the camera, and I feared that I’d let him down.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Don’t be.” He shook his head. “We got some great shots.”
“So we’re done?” I felt a mixture of hope and dread at the concept.
“For today.”
“Today? So you’re coming back?”
He nodded. “I’d like to get some candid shots of you.”
“Candid shots?” I squeaked out, nervously playing with the collar of my dress.
“I’ll be back tomorrow.” He turned toward the house. “Wear whatever you do when you garden.”
I trailed after him, acutely aware of Mom still watching from the window. This would not make her happy. “You’re going to take pictures of me gardening?”
“Yeah,” he spoke over his shoulder. When he reached the door, he turned to me. “That way we can kill two birds with one stone. I can get the shots I need, and you can teach me what I’m doing wrong with my plants.” When he smiled, my knees softened.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
I had forgotten that the reporter was coming today, so when I heard the knock on the door I bounded down the stairs, assuming it was Carter. I knew I shouldn’t be this excited to see him again, but I couldn’t help it. Ever since yesterday I’d been fantasizing about his dark eyes and easy smile. About the way his fingers moved over the camera and how his hair fell perfectly across his forehead when the wind rustled it. Never before had a guy elicited this kind of response from me. Even though I knew nothing would come of it, I planned to enjoy his company while I had it. Since I’d escaped, I’d never even had a friend. When we first moved here there was girl who lived down the road and she tried to befriend me. But when she asked too many questions about my kidnapping, I stopped inviting her over. Since then I’d stayed away from people.
Mom was already walking toward the door, and she reached it as my feet hit the last step. Before opening it, she glanced up at me and her eyes widened in horror. “Aspen? What are you wearing?”
I glanced down at my shorts with the grass stains and oversized shirt. My hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and my feet were bare. I chose not to wear any makeup other than a little lip gloss. “Carter told me to wear what I normally wear gardening. He wants to get some candid shots.”
“Carter?” Mom looked perplexed. There was more knocking. “I didn’t know Carter was coming back today.”
My stomach dropped when Mom opened the door and the reporter stood on the front porch. He wore brown pants and a cardigan sweater that was pulled so tight around his protruding middle I was afraid one of the buttons would pop off and hit me in the eye. He blinked behind thick glasses, and his comb-over was even worse today than the last time we met. In his meaty hands he held a black briefcase. Everything about this man irked me.
“Neil, come on in.” Mom swept her arm out, moving out of his way.
That’s right. His name was Neil. I couldn’t remember it before, but it fit him perfectly. As Neil waddled in, I sighed.
“Make yourself at home,” Mom said as she ushered Neil into the family room. “Aspen and I will go make some tea.” As her fingers closed around my upper arm I knew she didn’t need my help making tea. “What is going on?” she hissed, dragging me toward the kitchen.
I stared at her blankly, wondering why she was the one irritated. Shouldn’t I be the
one upset? It was me who had to endure the stupid interviews.
“How could you come downstairs dressed like that?”
I entered the kitchen and leaned against the wall. Cows stared back at me from all over the room. Mom was obsessed with cows, and our entire kitchen was decorated with them. We had kitchen towels covered in black and white cows, cow cookie jars, paintings of cows on the wall, ceramic cows lining the countertops. Their black eyes ogled me. I averted my gaze. “I told you. Carter asked me to wear this.”
Mom rested her elbows on one of the granite countertops. “You cannot wear that outfit for the pictures that will be appearing in the National View.”
“Why not?” I glanced down at my clothes. This was what I wore every day.
Mom sighed, pushing off the counter. “Look, I know you don’t want to do this article, but you’re acting really childish right now.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to do this article.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “So why are you making me? For the money?”
Mom reeled back, looking stricken. “No. Of course not.”
“Then why?”
“To help you.” Mom fingered a strand of my hair that had escaped from my ponytail. “It’s time for you to move on and let go. I guess I thought if you finally told your story it would help you heal.”
My heart softened. Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to Neil, but I’m not changing my clothes.”
Mom’s face dropped momentarily, but she recovered quickly. “Fine. Go ahead. I’ll make the tea.”
I peeled myself from the wall. After one last glance at the myriad of cows, I trekked into the family room. Neil was smoothing down his comb-over with the palm of his hand as if that would somehow make it look more appealing. Groaning inwardly, I sank down onto the couch. Neil held a pen between his fingers, and a notebook was spread over his lap.