If I Lose Her (14 page)

 I looked
again.

 “Number
three.”

 “Ah ha, good
choice. That’s the one Janet and I agreed on also.”

 “So what
happens next?”

 “I’ll do a
call-back of the five that are our favorite, and we’ll do a test shoot of each
of them with one of the purses to see how they turn out. Are you available
Friday and Saturday?”

 “Yeah.”

 “Cool. I
have a shoot in Boulder the next two days. I’ll see you Friday.”   

 I drove back
to my apartment thinking about everything I had learned.

 Being around
all those pretty girls made me miss Jo that much more. 
        

 It was a
warm Fourth of July evening. My mother and I had plans to grill some hot dogs
at my apartment and walk down 16
^th
Street Mall to see the fireworks.
I could already smell gunpowder in the air from the bottle rockets some kids
were setting off in the alley by my bedroom window.

 It was an
hour or so before sunset so I fired up my three-gallon grill out on the tiny,
strip balcony that was one of the only conveniences that came with my
apartment.

 The hot dogs
sizzled and fattened as I walked into the kitchen, retrieved a cold can of
Pepsi from the fridge and handed it to her.

 “How are
things at the studio?” She asked as she cracked the seal on the sweating can
and took a drink. She was sitting out on the porch with me, watching people
hang some flags for the night’s festivities.

 “Really good
actually. When Mike hired me, he said I would probably be around three days a
week until things picked up, but I’ve been in the studio almost every day for
the past month, so I guess things have picked up. He also gave me a .75-cent
raise yesterday, so that’s not bad.”

 I lifted the
grill lid and rotated the dogs.

 “No, not if
you’ve only been there…how long has it been?”

 “A little
over a month.”

 “And you’re
enjoying it?”

 I nodded.

 “I could do
this kind of work all day long. I mean the editing is a bit tedious, but I
really love going out on shoots with him. He doesn’t usually take much gear
with him, just his camera and maybe a reflector. It’s a really minimalistic
approach, but it produces some great images. I feel like I didn’t know anything
about photography before I started working for him.”

 “That’s
good. It’s good to enjoy what you do. How’s Jo?”

 “She’s
really good too. She loves it out there. I think she’d stay if they’d let her.”

 “Would they
let her?”

 “Probably,
but I don’t think she has any way to pay for it, and it’s a little too late to
try to apply for a scholarship through the university,” I said taking the
dripping dogs off the spitting grill and laying them on a plate. Then I walked
inside to the pile of Jo’s letters, took the top one off the stack and
retrieved my camera. I walked back to the door and smiled at mom. She saw my
camera and knew my intentions so she rolled her eyes then tossed her long hair
back and smiled. I took her picture.

 “You should
read the letter she sent me yesterday,” I said handing her the letter and
sitting down at the table, hungry and ready to eat.

 “Are you
sure that’s okay? I don’t want to invade your privacy.”

  I
laughed. “It’s fine.”

 Then she
opened the letter while I piled two hot dogs with chopped onions, ketchup and a
streak of mustard.

 
Dear
Alex,

 Twenty-four
days until I get to see you again. I can’t wait. I have to admit. I am really
starting to miss Mexican food, root beer floats and ranch dressing. You will
have to take me out to La Caretta the night I get home and then we can stop by
A&W’s for root beer floats. Okay, I miss you the most. There, I said it.
J
Do you miss me? When you write next you
should tell me what you miss the most about me. I think what I miss the most
about you are your hugs, your soft kisses, the way you laugh and the way you
make me laugh. Thanks for being who you are.

 Classes
are moving along. I have a big assignment do on appeasement in WWII, which I am
not thoroughly looking forward to. But, I think it will be alright. The
teaching style here is different than what I expected. They don’t really tell
us what is right or wrong. Instead they pose questions and push the class into
discussing and debating different sides. Maybe this is what classes will be
like at Regis? I guess we’ll see.

 Last week
a couple of us rented a car and went into Bath for the day, which was amazing!
Romans built bathhouses here over hot springs, and wealthy citizens and members
of the social elite would travel from all over the country to bathe in these
huge rooms. There’s also a museum that shows you what life would have been like
here during the time of Rome by projecting images of city life onto the walls
so it feels like you are walking around in a crowd of Romans. They found at the
bottom of the baths dozens of pieces of jewelry and jewels used in signet rings
that fell off of people who use to bathe here.

 Hannah,
Kevin and I ate at a restaurant afterwards that is owned by a famous British
chef, Jamie Oliver, and the food was so good it made me miss Mexican a little
less…for about five minutes.

 How is
your mom doing? I hope her store is doing well. We should definitely get
together with her often, now that you’re moved out. Make sure to tell her that
I send my love.

 I need to
go. I only have fifteen minutes to get to mid-Eastern politics. Sigh.

 Write to
me soon. I miss you. I love you,         

      -Jo

 I watched my
mother smile and laugh while she read the letter.

 “Oh, we
should all do something together when she gets home. You’ll have to tell her
that I said hello and that I’m glad she’s having a good time.”

 “I will.”

 “Alex, before
we go out tonight there’s something we need to talk about.”

 “Okay,” I
said pushing my empty plate forward and bracing myself.

 “You
probably know that Peter is back in town.”

 “I had heard
that somewhere.”

 “We’ve been
seeing a lot of each other the past few months, and…”

 She paused.

 “And…” I
said leaning forward.

 “And…he
asked me to marry him.”

 “WHAT?”

 “And…I said
yes.”

 I leaned
forward and put my head between my hands as a million and a half things ran
through my head while I tried absorbing what she had just told me.

 “He asked me
a couple of months ago, but I told him that I wouldn’t marry him while you were
still living at home.”

 “So you lied
to me.”

 “Alex,
please. Don’t do this. If you want to tell me you’re upset, fine. If you want
to tell me you hate the idea, fine, but don’t tell me that I lied to you. I’ve
never lied to you. Not once. I did not want you to feel pressured to either
leave home or not leave home because of this.”

 I stood up
from the table and started pacing around the kitchen.

 “Okay, I’m
pissed. I think this is a terrible idea.”

 “Okay.”

 “I mean
marry…THIS guy? Really?”

 “Alex, I’m
forty-five-years-old. I don’t want to be alone.”

 “You’ve got
me.”

 “Thanks kid,
and I’ll always be your mother, but you are moving further away. And you should
be. You and Jo will probably be getting married in the next few years. You both
have careers to look forward to and children and building a life together. You
shouldn’t have to think about your spinsteress mother.”

 “But Peter?
REALLY? He stole your business mother. He stole food right out of our mouths.
Those were your words. You remember that?”

 I tried
staying calm even though I kept imagining how much better I would feel picking
up the glass jar on my kitchen counter and smashing against the wall.

 “Yes, I
remember. But, he was trying to take care of his children. He didn’t have a
choice.”

 “Are you
kidding? He didn’t have to leave with all your stuff.”

 “Alex, look.
I understand why you feel frustrated.”

 “Do you? Do
you really know what it’s like to sit by and listen to your mother cry herself
to sleep? Do you know what it’s like to want to go after the ass hole that tore
your mother to pieces, but you can’t because you’re too little? Do you know
what it’s like to see him come waltzing back into her life like nothing has
happened and drop his muddy boots on the floor of our life like he’s belonged
there the entire time?”

 “I’m sorry
Alex, but this isn’t ABOUT you okay.”

 “Yes it’s
about me, because YOU are about me.”

 “Alex.”

 “You want me
to just sit buy and watch this lying piece of shit walk right back into our
life?”

 “ALEX
ENOUGH! Okay? Enough. I can’t handle this right now. I understand you’re upset,
but I’m marrying him and that’s it.”

 “Look, maybe
fireworks aren’t the best idea tonight. I’m going to just catch a taxi and I’ll
talk to you later,” she said picking up her coat and purse.

 I squeezed
the handle on the refrigerator door not wanting our night to end like this.

 “I can at
least give you a ride,” and I reached out to her, but she held her had up to
stop me.

 “No. It’s
fine. I’m a big girl. I can find my own way home.”

 Then she
walked out and slammed the door behind her.

 Less than a
week later she called and told me that she and Peter went that week to a
justice of the peace and got married. She said that they wanted to keep it
simple so they just went. I was so angry I threw my cell phone out the window
and smashed it against the brick wall across the street. 

 August was
finally here and I was driving down I-70 in my Cougar with the windows rolled
down, excited to see Jo. She was right, the summer blew past us like a traveler
on a highway. The smell of the vanilla air freshener I had hung on the mirror
was thick and new, and I still had the taste of salt bacon on my lips from
breakfast.

 Our plans
were to drop by her parent’s house, make a run out to Golden to her favorite little
Mexican restaurant, and then I would finally get to show her the studio where I
worked. My landlord was spraying apartments for bugs all weekend forcing me to
stay at a friend’s house, so I wouldn’t be able to show her the apartment until
Monday.

 I wasn’t
sure she’d recognize me. I had a new hair cut, my clothes were a step closer
toward stylish, since I was around models all day, and on the lonely nights
when I didn’t have anyone to talk to I had put on some muscle in the gym.

 I parked the
Cougar in the short stay lot, climbed out and went in to find the international
arrivals gate. The new copy of Photo District News had arrived that morning so
I flipped through the pages of photography articles and camera gear listings
while I sat and waited. A bundle of roses sat in the seat next to me.

 One cloud of
people came through the gate after another, then another and another. Nothing.
I tried to scan every face as it came past the darkened glass doors, but none
of them were the one I was looking for. I started reading my magazine again.
Then I heard that familiar voice that plucked a single heartstring when I heard
it.

 “Hey good
lookin’. You going my way?”

 I looked up.

 Standing in
front of me was not the Jo I had put on the plane, with her thick-rimmed
glasses, long curly hair, skinny jeans and flats, but a woman of culture made
taller by her designer heals and her confidence. She wore a spring-white dress
stopping just above her knees; large Dolce-Gabanna sunglasses held back her
short-cut hair and a handbag with the crossing C monogram of Coach hung on her
arm.

 “Hey,” I
said laughing and picking her up in my arms. We squeezed each other for a long
minute. She smelled different. What was intrinsically her smell was still in
there somewhere, buried deep beneath something else…something less vanilla and
more expensive.

 “Wow, you
look really great,” I told her, holding her at arms length to get a better
look.

 “You don’t
look so bad yourself. Have you been in the gym?” she asked with a big smile, running
her hand up my arm. “And, I love the hair!”

 “You got
your ears pierced.”

 “Do you like
them? I wanted to surprise you. I wasn’t really interested before, but Hannah
kept letting me borrow her clothes and taking me out shopping, and I decided
one afternoon, what the hell, I can always take them out…and you know what? I
really like having my ears pierced.”

 “These are
for you,” I said handing her the bunch of roses.

 “Ah, babe,
thanks. I’ve missed you so much.”

 “Did you get
any sleep on the plane?” I asked taking her carry-on and heading to the luggage
carousel.

 “I slept the
entire way home.”

 “So you
don’t need any down-time?”

 “Are you
kidding? I am so ready to spend the rest of the day with you. It’s better that
I stay awake now until bedtime anyways–to help me get back on
track.”

 We picked
her luggage from the lineup and made our way home.

 “So tell me
about London. You were there the last two nights you were in England right?”

 “The last
three. London is just amazing. Hannah and I had gone in a couple of times for
the day, to catch a show, but I didn’t really get a chance to explore any of it
until Wednesday. Let’s see. I saw the changing of the guard, Tower Bridge, Big
Ben and I wandered around a couple of the villages, like Soho, and on Wednesday
night I went and saw ‘Twelfth Night’ at Shakespeare’s Globe, which was amazing.
Thursday I bounced around museums, and I had to get in one last proper pub
visit so I spent an hour or two at a pub across Whitehall where members of
parliament regularly drink. I had wanted to see the special documents room at
the British library for a while also, so I did that Friday morning. Then I got
on the plane, and here I am.”

 “Wow, it
sounds like a whirlwind visit.”

 “So much of
London is for the tourists anyways. What I really loved was getting to be at
Oxford, and for three months! We should really save up and take a trip out
there together sometime. Hannah’s parents take trips to Florida every few
years, so I might fly down and see her the next time she does that. How about
you? How are things at the studio?”

 “They’re
good. Really good in fact. I’m doing more studio management stuff for Mike now,
on top of editing photos and assisting with shoots.”

 “Like what
kind of management stuff?”

 “Designing
some of his ad material, answering phone calls, keeping his appointments in
order. That sort of stuff.”

 “And it’s
only been three months?”

 “Yeah, but
Mike is so disorganized. He’s a crazy good photographer, but I have no idea how
he kept appointments before I came along. He even gave me a key to the studio
last week, which is really cool because now he lets me do some of my own
shooting in the studio after hours. I thought we could go by there, maybe after
dinner and I could show you around. Mike’s in Japan all week so not much is
going on.”

 “Oh, I’d
love to see the place.”

 “What about
you? Did you take any photos while you were globetrotting?”

 “Are you
kidding? I’ve got forty-five rolls of film I’m bringing back with me.”

 “Forty-five?
Wow, that’s going to take some time to develop.”

 “Yeah, I
even got Hannah to model for me a little the last couple weeks.”

 “You should
really think about going digital,” I said as we pulled up her street. “I know
you’re not a fan, but technology has really come a long way, and digital
cameras are starting to produce some high quality images.” 

 She rolled
her eyes at me. “I know I know. It’s just not the same. I want to be able to
feel my images come alive in front of me. I’ve seen photographers with their
digital cameras and they move so fast. Knowing I have to develop each and every
frame slows me down and forces me to think more carefully about every shot.”

 “I guess we
will just have to agree to disagree. You do know that digital is where
everything is going right?”

 “Whatever,”
she said shaking her head. Then she got out of the car.

 I helped her
unload her luggage and we went inside. Susan, who couldn’t go with me to the
airport because she was working, came running out of the house and both girls screeched
when they saw each other.

 During the
summer Susan had gotten engaged to the guy she had been dating since freshman
year.

 They looked
each other over, Susan showed Jo her ring, they hugged again and then went into
the house. I finished unloading the luggage.

 Jo’s parents
were both away to some teachers’ conference and wouldn’t be home for another
three days, so we chatted with Susan and I waited while Jo gave her a bracelet
she had bought her in Oxford. About an hour later Jo and I left and went to
dinner.

 We drove
into Golden, and I requested a table for two at the family owned Mexican
restaurant.

 “I haven’t
been here since I was here with you,” I told her as we took our seat.

 A plate of
Fajitas sizzled and smoked at the table next to us, and I could smell the
cooked cheese and chili powder from dishes being prepared in the kitchen just
twenty-feet away.

 “So, I’ve
made a decision about school,” I said feeling confident as a portly Latino lady
set a basket of warm tortilla chips and a small pot of salsa down in front of
us.

 “Oh?”

 “I’m going
to take a semester off.”

 “Just a
semester?”

 “For now.
Things are really good at the studio, and I don’t want to mess anything up by
filling my schedule with classes.”

 “But, what
kind of future is there in working at a photographer’s studio? I mean, don’t
get me wrong. It’s great right now, but you can’t exactly stay an assistant
making ten-bucks-an-hour for the rest of your life.”

 
Ouch!

 
“Well
I don’t know. Maybe I can start doing more of my own work on the side and open
my own studio down the road.”

 “But you
want to be a journalist. You don’t want to be stuck in a studio all day.
Journalism is what you’re good at.”

 “I want to
make a living, and no matter how hard I try, journalism is just not paying off
right now.”

 “Maybe we
should talk more about this another time.”

 
Why?
There’s nothing else to talk about,
I thought, but I didn’t respond.
Instead we ordered food.

 “How are
things between you and your mom?” 

 I sighed.

 “Not good,”
I replied with a shake of the head as I looked out the window. “We haven’t even
spoken since the fourth. I don’t understand what would have possessed her to
get married without even letting me be at the wedding, or the ceremony or
whatever the hell it was.”

 “You said
this Peter guy is really manipulative. Maybe he convinced her to get married
quickly because he was worried that you would be able to talk her out of it.”

 “I damn sure
would have tried.”

 Then Jo
reached across the table and took my hand.

 “Your mom is
a grown woman Alex, and …”

 I pulled my
hand away.

 “You don’t
understand. It’s always been just her and me.”

 Jo held up
her hand and looked upset.

 “I’m sorry
okay. I’m just trying to say that it’s not just you two anymore.”

 
I was a
bit harsh.

 “I’m sorry.
I’m not upset at you, and you’re right. It just feels like she up and shut me
out of her life when he came along, that’s all.”

 We ordered
our food and Jo tried to change the subject by talking about what she needed to
do to get ready to start classes in a week. Then we ate, I paid the bill and we
headed downtown.

 “Sorry I
can’t show you the apartment till Monday.”

 “That’s
fine. How is it going staying with Colin anyway?”

 “Meh, his
apartment is smaller than mine, if that’s possible, and all he has is a love
seat for me to sleep on, so my legs are either cramping up or hanging over the
edge of the stupid chair all night. A couple of times I’ve thought about just
crashing in the studio while Mike is away. We’ve been doing some lifestyle
stuff and he had a full bedroom set set up in the loft. I don’t know though. I
guess at least it’s somewhere to stay.”

 “You don’t
think you could just stay with your mom?”

 “Three
months ago, no problem, but I’m not sleeping in the same house with that guy.
I’d rather sleep in a box in the backyard.”

 “I’m sorry
things are so rough between you two.”

 I just
squeezed her hand.

 We pulled
up, and I parked the Cougar in front of the bay doors. Then I got out of the
car, opened Jo’s door and we went in.

 I always
loved the feel of that studio. The vast creative space dedicated to
photography, and it always had the aroma of concrete and old plastic. Probably
from the days when it was used to fill orders of who-knows-what being shipped
to god-knows-where. 

 Purple and
orange light from the evening sky poured like water through the windows in the
ceiling while I walked over and turned on two modeling-lights to give us a bit
more light.

 I turned and
watched her eyes scan each corner and crevice of the room, and a small smile
rose from the edge of her lips.

 “Oh Alex,”
she said setting her sunglasses and purse down on the couch. “I could live in a
place like this.”

 “I know
right.”

 She looked
at the prints of Michael’s work hanging large on one wall and ran her finger
gently along the edge of the desk. Then she explored the kitchen and bathroom
and walked up the wooden stairs to the loft.

 “Do you want
to see my favorite part?” I hollered up to her.

 “There’s
more?” She asked leaning over the railing.

 “Oh yes.”

 I went up
the stars to the loft, took her hand and led her further up the to what looked
like one of the windows along the edge of the ceiling. I then lifted a small
latch, pushed it open and we both stepped out onto the roof. The sky was now
the deepest of autumn fire. We both walked to the brick ledge where we could
see down onto the street and out over downtown Denver as she wrapped her arms
around me.

 We didn’t
say anything. We just held each other and watched the sun finish its descent
behind the distant Rocky Mountains and one-by-one lights flick on in buildings
across the city.

 “I’m getting
cold,” she told me finally breaking the silence. So we went back down to the
studio floor.

 “So this is
where the geniuses work?” She said slowly removing her high-heels and stepping
onto the white, seamless-background paper.

 I watched
the paper crease beneath her every step.

 She looked
so good.

 She lifted
her hands above her head and slowly turned, basking in the warmth of the two
bright studio lights shining on her.

 I reached
for my camera, which was sitting on the corner of the desk, made sure it was
turned on and aimed the lens.
Click click.

 
She was
so shy before. Now she closed her eyes and swayed to a song only she could
hear.

 With her
eyes closed, I had no inhibition to take her fully in. Her bare feet. Her
ankles, thin and sculpted. The lines of her amazing legs up just past the knee.
Her slender arms. Her neck. Her lips softly painted.