If I Lose Her (15 page)

 She turned
with her back toward me.

 
Click…Memory
Card Full.

 
I
looked down at the back of the camera. I had run out of memory. I dropped the
card into my pocket and reached for another on the desk. When I turned, I saw
her begin to unzip the back of her dress. Then she let it slowly fall to the
floor. Then I swallowed. She was wearing lace.

 I lifted the
camera and clicked off another frame.

 She looked
over her shoulder and smiled.

 I didn’t
know what to do, so I just stood there…watching her through my lens.

 She turned
and faced me.

 Now she
wasn’t smiling. She was just so calm.

 I wasn’t. I
could actually hear my heart trying to break free from my chest.

 “I’m ready,”
she told me.

 I woke
before she did early the next morning as rain drummed on the windows above our
head. She was so warm, she smelled so soft and amazing. I pulled the covers up
over her shoulder as she pressed herself closer to me.

 
I’m going
to marry this girl.

 I looked up
and watched water streak down the wavy panes of glass.

 
How am I
going to ask her? She knows I love her. She loves me. I know she’ll say yes,
but how am I going to ask her?

 
Images
ran through my mind of her moving into my apartment, us having breakfast
together every morning, showering together, falling asleep together every
night. I imagined finding her socks in my laundry, what she’d look like
pregnant, us raising kids together.

 I turned to
look at her again and saw her beautiful eyes watching me.

 “Good
morning,” she whispered.

 “Good
morning.”

 “What are
you thinking about?”

 
Marrying
you.

 “Just how in
love with you I am.”

 She smiled
and I kissed her.

 I had
finally found a routine. As snow began falling across Denver, work at the
studio slowed. On Mondays, Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays I woke at 8:30
jumped in the shower, grabbed a latte and usually made it to the studio by
9:15. Once there, I would chat with Mike for a few minutes about whatever party
he had been to the night before, and he would ask how Jo was doing while I
opened the folder on my computer where he saved every email he wanted me to
deal with. Then I would spend the next hour or so filling his calendar with
would-be models who needed head shots or follow up test shoots. 11:00 would
either be the first shoot of the day or I would get started on the backlog of
image editing that forever needed to be done. Somewhere between Noon and 2 we
would break for lunch and grab a burrito at Illegal Pete’s, then we would head
back to the studio. Afternoons and evenings were always spent with Jo, unless
her homework load just didn’t allow time for flirtation. In which case I might
still drop by to say hi and give her a sandwich or just grab a drink with Colin
and call it a night.

 I still
wasn’t talking to my mother, but rather than think about it, I focused on the
small overnight bag that was now living on the floor next to my dresser. In it
was a clean pair of ladies underwear, pajama bottoms, a dainty little tee shirt,
a tooth brush, toothpaste, a stick of Glide deodorant, fragrance:
lavender and a small bottle of floral perfume. Jo was still living at her
parents so overnights didn’t happen often, but when they did, they dramatically
tinted the color of my entire week. Life seemed more beautiful now than ever.

 I had begun
socking away a little money here and there when I could afford it in an old
laptop box under my bed. I knew having the cash on hand wasn’t the safest
option, but something about being able to take the box out and count the cash
once in a while helped encourage me to fill it faster. I was hoping that within
a few months, maybe after the New Year, I might have enough to buy Jo a ring.
It wouldn’t be huge, but I could always add to it later. Then one Friday, in
early December, Mike told me he wanted to take me out to breakfast. This was
unusual because his idea of breakfast was three cups of coffee and half a pack
of smokes. I didn’t even know where a breakfast restaurant was on this side of
town.

 I got in his
dirty truck and we drove to a 24-hour diner a few blocks north of the studio. I
could hear the clatter-clatter and smell the exhaust of a coal train as it
trundled down the tracks right across the street.

 “Have you
had any callbacks on your book in the last few weeks?” he asked as we sat
down.      

 I flipped
open the syrup stained menu, and he ordered a cup of coffee.

 “No. I set
up a website last month hoping that would help, but I’m just not getting any
feedback.”

 “How about
the online mag?”

 “Eh, that
was alright, but I had to quit. They literally weren’t paying me enough to
cover the gas it took to get out to some of the places they were sending me. I
guess it at least gives me some more clips.”

 He ordered
an omelet and another cup of coffee, and I ordered the French toast.

 We sat
quietly for a few minutes.

 “Alex, I’m
going to have to let you go.”

 I turned and
looked at him.

 He slowly
stirred his coffee.

 “Things are
slowing down so much I’m thinking about having to move into a smaller studio.
You’ve been a good assistant, the best I’ve ever had in fact, but because
December and January are months when companies are pushing for sales not
advertising, there’s nothing I can do. I need today to be your last day. I can
always call you if stuff comes up in the future.”

 
My next
paycheck will cover about half my rent. I only have about a hundred bucks in
the bank. I’ll have to start job-hunting tomorrow? Crap!

 
“No,
I understand,” I said.

 
No I
don’t understand. Why don’t you move into a smaller studio? Why didn’t you tell
me two weeks ago so I could have been looking for work?

 
When
our food came we both ate quietly and then returned to the studio. The rest of
the day was awkward, but I wanted to get in the last few hours I could so I
hung around an hour later than I normally would have. He didn’t say anything
about it. Then we said our good byes, and I went home.

 I called Jo
on the way home and told her what was going on. She was sympathetic and wanted
to see me–to be there for me, but she was in the final throws of
some huge paper. So, I went back to my empty apartment, climbed between my cold
sheets (it wasn’t even 8 yet) and thought about all the things I needed to do
to find work.

 The next day
I checked my mail and found an envelope from my mother. Inside was a photograph
of her and Peter smiling, next to a Christmas tree, with the words “Merry
Christmas” scrawled in wispy curves across the bottom. I tore it in half and
threw Peter in the trash. Then I hung my mother’s smiling face on my
refrigerator door. I was missing her. She still didn’t know about my desire to
marry Jo, and she was the first person I normally would have gone to with
something this huge. Of course, I was the first person who normally would have
been at her wedding, but things were different now.

 Over the
next few weeks I set out updating my portfolio, cleaning up my resume and
making some calls. I applied for work at the Tattered Cover, but they were full
for the season. I called stores and restaurants. No one needed help. I applied
at three different movie theaters but they were full. Everybody had already
done their hiring for Christmas. If Mike had just given me a little heads up, I
probably could have found something seasonal to at least hold me over until
after New Year’s.

 I still
needed another $300 for rent even after my meager bank account and my last
check from Mike. I thought about going to my mother, but I didn’t want to go to
her like this, with my hat in my hand, not after months of not speaking to each
other. I got even angrier as I thought about this whole situation. I knew a lot
of people didn’t get along with their parents, but that wasn’t us. Mom had
always been my best friend–the one I talked to about everything. The one
whose door I could knock on at all hours of the night and chat with about
anything.

 I tried hard
not to, but after pushing my December rent a week past due, I pulled the laptop
box out from under my bed, opened it and counted off $300.

 As Christmas
drew closer, I dipped into the engagement ring savings again to spend a little
on a gift for Jo. Then I dipped in a little more for groceries. Little by
little I watched as the savings slowly dwindled, down to my last twenty bucks.
I had never kept much food in the apartment, but I ate everything I could find,
trying not to spend that last twenty.

 Of course Jo
knew things were tight, but I tried not to let her know how tight.

 Another
month had passed and January’s rent was due in less than a week.

 
I can’t
keep on like this. I have to find some work, somewhere.

 I had been
thinking for days what last minute strings I might be able to pull to pay my
rent, and there were only two options that I could see. Go talk to mom or pawn
my Cougar.

 The next day
I got out of the shower and saw that I had missed a call from Mike. I called
him back immediately hoping that he might have some work for me in January.

 “Hey Mike,
it’s Alex. I saw that you called. Sorry I couldn’t get to the phone in time.”

 “Hey Alex.
How is the job hunt going?”

 “Not real
well actually. It seems like everyone is booked up, but I’ll be calling a few
more people after the New Year.”

 “Well, I
just wanted you to know that I was up in Boulder doing a feature piece for the
Daily Camera, and I heard the photo editor mention that he was looking for
someone so I gave him your name. I can’t guarantee anything, but I told him
that you were the best assistant that I had ever had and he’d be crazy not to
at least look at your book.”

 “Oh, god
Mike. Thank you so much.”

 “He wants
you to call him. His name is Dan Parken and his number is 303-555-1247. He’ll
still be in the office. I’d call him right now if I were you.”

 “Mike. I
can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. I owe you lunch some time.”

 “You don’t
owe me shit. Just make the call.”

 “I’ll call
him right now. Thanks again.”

 The moment I
hung up the phone I dialed the number. Dan’s voice mail picked up.

 “This is Dan
Parken. I’m out of the office until the 2
^nd
. Please leave your name
and number, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. If this is urgent you
can call the General Editor at 4569.”

 I left my
details and made a note to call back on the 2
^nd
.

 Then New
Year’s Eve came.

 “We’re all
going out to dinner tomorrow night and my parents want you to come,” Jo said
one morning while she stood on her tip toes, trying to find some tea bags in my
empty cupboards.

 “Uh, I’m not
sure I can make it this year.”

 In the haze
of everything that was going on, I had forgotten about the New Year’s dinner
that her parents liked to have every year. Some big expensive meal at some
once-a-year restaurant in the city.

 “Really? Why
not? You should really buy groceries more often.”

 
I’m
broke!

 “I’m not really
feeling all that hot.”

 “Are you
sick?”

 “Nah, I
think I might just want to have a night in.”

 “But it’s
New Year’s dinner. They’ll be offended if you don’t come.”

 I rolled it
over in my mind as I snuck off to the bathroom.

 
Twenty
bucks. I have twenty buck left to my name. Twenty bucks that’s supposed to be
for an engagement ring.
I splashed some warm water in my face and wiped it
with a towel.
Maybe I can go and order something small. Yes, that’s what
I’ll do–something small.

 
I
came back out.

 She looked
at me while she tied up the laces on her tennies.

 “Are you
okay? Is everything okay? You’ve been really distant lately. If it’s about the
money, it’s okay. We can both skip it. I just want to be wherever you are.”

 “No, no. I’m
alright. Just tell your parents I’ll be there.”

 “Really?
Great.” Then she stood up and hugged me.

 We spent the
rest of the afternoon flipping through magazines at the Denver Public Library,
on the second floor, where we could look down over the railing and watch all the
people coming and going.

 The next
night I drove to her house and got out of the Cougar. She came running down the
sidewalk, in her bare feet, to meet me. Then she jumped into my arms.

 “Guess who I
just got off the phone with?”

 “Who?”

 “Marta Stephens,
the curator at the Denver Art Museum.”

 “What?”

 “Apparently
she is friends with Margaret Alpert, who showed her the photos she bought, and
now Marta wants to hang some of my work!”

 “Are you
kidding? That’s amazing. I am so proud of you.”

 “It’s for an
artists-to-watch-this-year show that they do every January, and she said that
she couldn’t guarantee anything, but the museum HAS been known to buy one or
two of the pieces from the show, not to mention the publishers and collectors
that will be there. And, the show gets mentioned in a national art museum
journal.”

 “Jo that’s
wonderful.”

 I hugged her
again and we went inside. I hated the fact that I was feeling more than a
little jealous.

 Susan’s
fiancé joined us, and we all went down to the restaurant.

 I had never
heard of Rodizio’s before, but I was ready to eat. As I walked up to the door I
saw the sign: Buffet Only Night. $18.95 per person.

 
$18.95?
SHIT!
I squeezed the rolled up twenty in my pocket.

 As we walked
in, the maitre d’ stopped me.

 I had worn
nice slacks, a dress shirt and a tie, but thanks to my time in the gym, my only
suit jacket didn’t fit quite right any more, so I had left it at home.

 “Excuse me
sir, a jacket is required.”

 I stopped
and looked around. Every other man in the restaurant, including Jo’s father and
Susan’s fiancé were all wearing dinner jackets.

 “We do have
something that the gentleman can borrow if he has nothing else.”

 “That’s
fine,” I said under my breath. I took the coat, put it on and we took our seat.

 Wearing the
blazer was like wearing the dunce cap of the evening, and I was already feeling
out of place.

 I ordered a
water while everyone else ordered their drinks, then the Brazilian waiter
explained to us how the waiters would bring around selections of meat, and
whenever we wanted anything all we had to do was turn the tiny wooden totem
sitting on the table from red to green. When we were full we just turned it
back to red.

 We each took
a plate and made our way to the salad bar. There were quail eggs and boiled
eggs, mozzarella balls with ripe tomatoes and pasta salad with ham, fruit
salads, potato salads, green salads and blue salads (pretty sure the blue salad
was jell-o). Then I found the hot plates.

 I stacked my
dish with mashed potatoes and rice and macaroni with creamy-cheese. I hadn’t
eaten much for the last two days, and there was so much to take in that I
started feeling light headed. This looked like it was going to be the best
$18.95 I had ever spent.

 After we all
sat down Jo’s father rose to make a toast.