The Photographer

by Mary Dixie Carter

  “She’s not here. Did you notice?” His voice sounded choked and sarcastic all at once. “And it’s just as much my decision.”

  “Is it?” I placed my other hand on top of his. “I think … I don’t want to offend you.”

  Fritz looked down at the floor, clearly angered. “Fine. Talk to Amelia about it. If she’s not dead.”

  I heard a noise in the doorway, looked up, and was stunned to see Amelia standing there.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Amelia wore an expression of divine bliss and looked strikingly pretty in spite of her wrinkled dress and faded makeup. The western light streamed through the wall of glass doors and across her face. She seemed to glow from the inside out.

  Fritz stood up quickly.

  With her chin tilted up and her chest expanded, Amelia was relishing the drama of her entrance. “I found our birth mother,” she announced. “I found our baby.”

  Her words knocked the wind out of me.

  Fritz’s eyes narrowed into thin slits in his face. His jaw was clenched. He pounded the desk with his fist. “Amelia, you can’t disappear for eight hours.”

  “I found our baby,” she said. “There was no time this morning—I had to go straight to her house in New Jersey. She left me a message. Then I lost my cell phone; I left it in the car.”

  My breath felt restricted, as if I were hiking at a high altitude. Now that Amelia had found a birth mother, I would have difficulty reversing her course.

  I stood up. “Tell us, Amelia.” I did my best to smile.

  Amelia took in my presence, but didn’t appear bothered by it. I might as well have been their dog. For an instant I recognized the modicum of space I occupied in her mind, but my love for her was not diminished. If anything, I wanted her affection even more.

  “Fritz, this girl, Lucia”—Amelia looked directly at Fritz, her voice at a higher pitch than normal—“she’s a girl, she’s nineteen, but not an idiot. She’s Catholic and Latinx. She knows she’s not in a position to raise the baby. She gets it. No money, no resources, no husband. And so someone else should.” It was as if Amelia and Fritz were the only two people in the room now. She wasn’t aware that she was sharing the information with me or not sharing it. “Different cultures have different priorities, and it’s not for us to judge. They leave their children in their country and come here to work and send money each week. Or the grandparents raise them. It’s quite practical, really. And it’s smart. She’s smart. And she’s very pretty. White teeth. Clear skin. Glossy hair. And she’s slender. I mean, she’s pregnant, but her hips are slim.” She motioned in the air with her hands to outline the contours of the girl’s slim hips. “It’s not good for a pregnant woman to be fat, because then the baby will be too. I said yes to the baby.”

  I felt as though all the oxygen were leaving the room. This was so wrong. It was all wrong. I needed to convince Amelia that she was making a mistake.

  Fritz’s lips were white and his face had developed a grayish hue. His anger was simmering. He leaned against the sliding glass door and fixed his gaze on the exterior landscape.

  “There was another couple.” Amelia was speaking rapidly and still in a high register. “I actually saw them leaving Lucia’s house. I saw their photo. They live in Manhattan and they want the baby too. Lucia told me they’re attorneys, but the woman plans to stop working and stay at home, or so she said to Lucia.” She perched on the edge of her desk. “Still, I’m pretty sure Lucia’s going to choose us. I told her all about you, Fritz. What a terrific father you are. I told her about Natalie—how excited she was for a little sister. It’s a girl, by the way. Lucia is having a girl.”

  “I thought you were dead!” Fritz exploded, spitting at her. He slammed his fist into the nearby wall. He picked up a book from his desk and threw it across the room. “You have no fucking concern for anyone but yourself.”

  I inhaled and exhaled slowly, in an effort to quiet my nervous system.

  “I lost my phone!” Amelia said. “It slipped out of my purse, I suppose.” She examined her leather bag, the interior pockets, as if she was trying to figure out how the phone could possibly have fallen out. “And when I arrived, it was a sensitive moment. Lucia’s mother was there, and I needed to show immense respect. They take this very seriously. They’re religious people. It would have been a big mistake to make it all about my lost phone,” she said. “I needed to communicate the right narrative.”

  I interjected. “There’s not another chance to make a first impression.”

  “Exactly,” Amelia said.

  Fritz pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose.

  “Fritz,” Amelia said, “you need to meet Lucia and the family. We need to go together tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think so.” He wiped saliva from the sides of his mouth.

  “What?” Amelia said.

  “Maybe you should invite her to come here,” I said, digging the nails from my right hand into the palm of my left hand. “She would meet Natalie. And she would see the warmth and love in your family.”

  “Good idea.” Amelia brightened. Strands of her hair were taken over by static and sticking straight up in the air.

  “When is her baby due?” Fritz asked.

  “It’s important for us to say ‘the baby,’ not ‘her baby.’ We have to send the right energy into the universe.” Amelia motioned up and out with both hands. “Language is powerful.”

  “When is the baby due?” he repeated.

  “May tenth.”

  A timer was set on a ticking bomb. I had two months in which to shift the outcome. Long, slow, deep breaths.

  “I don’t think she should come here,” Fritz said. “No one’s committed to anything.”

  “Well, sweetheart…” Amelia paused.

  I could see her mental calculations. How much should she pretend to take Fritz’s opinion into consideration? “I haven’t had any kind of clarity about any of this—for over a year. And I feel good about Lucia. You’re going to feel that way too. And if you don’t, then we’ll just let her know that we changed our mind.”

  Fritz’s gaze wandered toward me. Was he thinking of our earlier conversation? He picked up his cell phone, apparently to read a text.

  “Fritz, please.” Amelia was making a concentrated effort to soften her voice and her face.

  “I won’t pretend that I’ve agreed to this,” he said. “I don’t know shit about her, or the father.”

  “As long as you have an open mind.” Amelia crossed the room to put her arms around Fritz, who barely reciprocated. “I’ll invite her to come here tomorrow. But I’ll make it clear that you and she need to meet so everyone is fully on board.”

  She walked into the kitchen, ostensibly to make the phone call. Fritz followed, as did I. Now that Amelia was safely home, I didn’t have a good reason to stay. I had chills and a headache behind my eyes, as if my body were depleted of oxygen.

  Amelia sat down at the small desk in the kitchen, next to the only landline in the house. She seemed mildly oblivious to the anger in Fritz’s eyes.

  I heard the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut.

  “Natalie doesn’t know that you were missing,” he whispered to Amelia.

  “I wasn’t.”

  Natalie’s footsteps pattered down the hall. She appeared in the kitchen with her cello. “Hi, Mom.”

  Amelia stood and wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie and held her. “I love you so much.”

  “You’re back from Texas?”

  “Honey, we’ve found our baby. The baby girl who will be your little sister.”

  Natalie’s face whitened. Her lips pressed together tightly. She looked down and fumbled with the latch on her cello case, which had come partially open. “Where is she?”

  “The woman I met today is pregnant with a baby girl. And I just have a feeling this could be so wonderful for us.”

  Natalie tried again to close the latch on her cello case. “Why doesn’t
she want her baby?”

  “It’s not that she doesn’t want her,” Amelia said. “It’s that she can’t provide for her. And she’s not married.”

  “You don’t need to be married to have a baby,” Natalie said.

  “It’s hard.”

  When Natalie finally succeeded in closing the case, she leaned it against the wall and sat on the floor to pet Itzhak. “I feel sorry for the baby,” she said.

  “I’m going to be her mother.”

  Fritz raised his voice. “That is not decided.”

  Amelia and Fritz made eye contact. Silent communication passed between them. Each of them had a different way they wanted their daughter to view the situation. They mistakenly thought that Natalie didn’t register the entire exchange.

  “Natalie,” I said. “How about one game of Scrabble before I take off?”

  Natalie perked up at the suggestion. “OK.”

  Her parents looked relieved. I’d figured out a way to serve a purpose and a reason to stay in the house. Natalie and I settled in at the dining table.

  Amelia called Lucia several times without reaching her. I could hear her leaving messages. Several minutes into our game of Scrabble, I heard Amelia talking to someone. I missed the first few words of her conversation.

  “You’re working tomorrow?” Amelia said, the disappointment in her voice impossible to disguise. “She’s working tomorrow,” she said to Fritz. “Tonight? Yes. Yes. Eight is perfect.” Amelia hung up the phone. “She’s coming over after dinner!”

  I was relieved by this turn of events—and pleased at my own skill in directing us toward the desired outcome.

  Natalie turned to see what the commotion was. “Who’s coming?”

  “Lucia is coming to meet us, honey.” Amelia approached and leaned over to encircle Natalie in her arms.

  I stood up. “I should go now. This is a time for your immediate family.” It was a calculated risk, because I wanted to stay.

  “We just started our game,” Natalie said.

  “We’ll play another time.” I spoke firmly so none of them would question my determination.

  Fritz interjected. “No, it would be great for you to stay. Please.” Fritz gave me a meaningful look. Was he thinking about our earlier conversation?

  “It’d be nice for Natalie to have a pal,” Amelia said cheerfully.

  I did my best to maintain a neutral expression. I practiced inhaling and exhaling through my nose, taking slow, deep breaths. Amelia was underestimating the importance of the birth mother role—focused only on the girl’s gait, carriage, and temperament. It was my moral obligation to alter Amelia’s course.

  Lucia was scheduled to arrive in one hour. Natalie and I continued our game. Meanwhile, Fritz took a pizza out of the freezer and put it in the microwave.

  “We don’t want Lucia to see that.” Amelia pointed to the pizza box like it was a dead mouse. “Don’t forget to throw it away.”

  Fritz barely acknowledged her.

  Natalie and I ate pizza and drank seltzer while continuing on with Scrabble, and Amelia prepared a beautiful platter of raw vegetables and homemade cucumber dill dip, along with a platter of fresh fruit.

  “Where’s that homemade pumpkin bread?” Amelia called out from the kitchen.

  “What?” Fritz asked.

  “Got it.”

  Their house was so over-the-top clean that Amelia and Fritz had nothing to tidy. In fact, they had the opposite problem. Their house did not reveal the presence of a child, almost as if there was some shame attached to the fact that a child lived there and it might have been preferable if she didn’t. Her belongings were all confined to her bedroom. There was very little evidence of Natalie in the downstairs living areas. Interestingly, Amelia must have recognized this, because she disappeared and, a few minutes later, appeared with a number of Natalie’s toys, books, dolls, and art supplies.

  Natalie spotted her mother with an armful of her belongings. “What are you doing?”

  Amelia didn’t register embarrassment. “I want Lucia to know that you have great toys and that your little sister would too.”

  “Oh.” Natalie looked relatively satisfied with the answer.

  Amelia placed a stack of Natalie’s dog-eared books on the glass coffee table next to her large, glossy art books. Then, in an apparently haphazard manner, she placed some slutty-looking Barbie dolls gone wrong, a Spirograph set, and jewelry-making paraphernalia in various strategic locations throughout the downstairs living area. One would have assumed that Natalie had been playing and neglected to put the items away. I was impressed with the execution.

  Amelia built a fire in the library, and then she and Fritz went upstairs to change while Natalie and I concluded our game of Scrabble.

  I thought that Natalie had mixed feelings when she witnessed her mother’s level of desperation for a baby. And I couldn’t blame her. I felt a kinship with Natalie. It was clear she craved her parents’ attention and rarely got enough of their time or energy. Another child would presumably mean even less time for Natalie.

  “It’s a special day,” I said. Even though I had good letters, I traded them in, because I wanted Natalie to win the game.

  “It’s not definite, though. The baby sister.” She frowned and rearranged her letters on her Scrabble rack.

  “Of course it’s not.” Long, slow, deep breaths.

  Itzhak rested his head on Natalie’s lap. She studied her letters.

  “Your parents want you to be involved in the decision too,” I said. Natalie was an extremely perceptive child and able to identify deceit. But I was telling her the version of circumstances that ought to be true. So it was true, in a sense.

  Natalie cocked her head. “I don’t know.”

  “I believe they do. And they want you to feel ownership over the whole process.” I brushed some stray hairs away from her face. “You want Lucia to know everything about your family. Because the worst of all possible outcomes would be that your mom gets her hopes up and then Lucia backs out at the last minute.”

  She rearranged her letters again.

  I inhaled, breathing low into my core. “Like she finds out something she didn’t know and then she decides, oh, she really wants to choose a different family. I know a few families who went through that. At the last minute, the birth mother—that’s what Lucia is—she can change her mind whenever she wants to. Even after the baby is born.”

  She looked up from her letters. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  Natalie finally placed her letters: C-O-N-T-R-O-L next to the word L-E-D that was already on the board, to spell CONTROLLED. She smiled ever so slightly.

  “Control is seven letters,” I said. “Controlled is fifty extra points, beyond the points on the tiles.”

  She was clearly pleased with herself.

  She twisted one small section of her hair tightly around her finger. “Why would Lucia change her mind?”

  “All kinds of reasons. These decisions—sometimes they’re not purely rational. Religion sometimes. Culture, sensibility. Sometimes people want a similar value system.”

  “We’re Jewish.”

  “Right.” I held my breath.

  “We’re not religious.” She twisted the same section of hair again.

  “Right.” I paused and counted to five in my head. “I’m sure she’ll be fine with that. The important thing about tonight is that everything’s on the table. No secrets, no surprises.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The doorbell rang at 8 P.M. on the dot.

  Amelia rushed to the door, and Fritz followed. In anticipation of Lucia’s arrival, Amelia had changed into a navy turtleneck dress that fell below her knees. The layers of her dark glossy shoulder-length hair framed her cheekbones perfectly. I could recognize the skill of a high-priced hairstylist. Amelia was wearing a pearl necklace and matching earrings. Perhaps she thought a prim and proper look would appeal to Lucia.

  Fritz, on the other hand, even after
having showered, still looked disheveled. His button-down shirt was wrinkled and his hair appeared to be uncombed. He had a patchy five o’clock shadow. He had the capacity to look stylish, but the events of the day had broken him down.

  Natalie and I walked into the front hallway so that we both had a view of the door. I picked up my digital Canon EOS and put the strap around my neck.

  Amelia opened the front door to reveal Lucia, a girl with a jet-black ponytail and olive skin. She looked to be sixteen, as opposed to nineteen, partly because she was so short, not much taller than Natalie.

  The explosion of rage I felt when confronted with Lucia’s presence was unreasonable, perhaps. But I didn’t understand: Why wouldn’t Amelia and Fritz recognize my love for them and look to me for assistance instead of looking to a total stranger?

  Lucia was wearing a red woolen coat that she’d clearly borrowed from someone much taller than she was, because it almost hit the ground in spite of her high-heeled boots. And she wore a thin red scarf.

  “Lucia!” Amelia embraced the girl as if they were related. “Thank you for coming, sweetheart.”

  Lucia timidly stepped inside the house, her nose and cheeks pink from the cold. She removed her boots and left them at the door while Amelia hung her coat. Without a coat on, it was obvious how pregnant Lucia was. Amelia led her to the library and offered everyone a glass of water. Fritz left the room and returned with a bottle of IPA for himself.

  I sat next to Lucia on one of the sofas, resentment rising up into my throat. Fritz and Amelia sat on the opposite sofa, and Natalie perched on the arm next to her father. My breath was shallow and restricted, like I might hyperventilate. I needed to calm my nerves. I needed to think clearly.

  “You have a beautiful home,” Lucia said. She adjusted her body so that she could lean her lower back against the throw pillows on the sofa.