by Portia Moore
“Damn, those are good, Ian.”
I almost forgot that Blue’s never really seen my work, aside from a picture here and there.
“I think I need to take some more shots today. You want to come?” I ask, gesturing for him to grab my bag. He lets out a surprised laugh.
“You want to go outside…and work?” he asks again
I swallow my annoyance. “Well, the rent has to be paid, and I make that from working,” I say, downplaying that this is a major step for me.
“What the hell happened while I was gone?” he says excitedly. I let out a breath and shrug. I might as well tell him to get it over with and avoid any group hug kumbaya shit he’s going to start.
“Lauren, Cal’s wife, was here. We talked. It was nice to talk to someone who understands what’s been going on.” I clear my throat, and Blue waits for me to continue.
“Then her water broke and I had to take her to the hospital and I just…I guess I realized life goes on if you want it to.”
Blue looks at me almost flabbergasted. “That’s what I’ve been trying to get through your head since I’ve been back!” he exclaims. I give him the finger and hear another knock at the door.
“You expecting company?” he asks, looking at me curiously.
“Yeah, Hillary’s coming with me to get some shots. We’re behind.” Blue opens it, and Hillary’s there with a big smile, her long blonde hair falling around her shoulders. She’s dressed in a light blue t-shirt and tight jeans.
“Hey,” she says, and I see Blue gawking at her. I forgot how much he has a thing for blondes.
“I’m Hillary. And you are?” she asks, gliding right past him into the apartment. I’m about to go offer to pick his jaw up off the floor if it stays open any longer.
“This is Josh, my cousin. You can call him Blue if you want. He’s going to tag along if that’s cool with you,” I tell her.
“Extra hands definitely will help.” She giggles.
“I’m Blue,” he says as if he just snapped out of a trance. I know that look from him. He’s either in love or going to try to hump her.
“I’m Hillary,” she says, amused, extending her hand out to him. He takes it wearing a big goofy smile.
“Your cousin’s a lot more friendly than you, huh Ian?” she says, wearing a pageant girl smile.
“Yeah, he’s mean as fuck sometimes, isn’t he?” Blue jokes.
“Let's get out while we have good light,” I tell them, both grabbing my stuff and heading out the door.
Scouting locations has always been one of my favorite parts of being a photographer, but it’s hard to keep my mind focused on it today. It doesn’t help that Blue is acting like a fucking idiot, panting after Hillary, like a bitch in heat. She’s hot, yeah, and definitely his type, but it doesn’t excuse how stupid he looks when he can’t keep his eyes off of her, keeps asking her stupid questions, anything to get her to talk to him. He’s a good-looking guy and can get pretty much any chick he wants, but Heaven help us when he sets his sights on someone like he apparently has with Hillary.
Was this how I looked to everyone with Alana? I was nuts over her, behaving in ways I never have with any girl. I was completely enamored, head over heels in love, and I never would have put up with the kind of attitude she gave me or the games she played with anyone else. I would’ve fucked them and then kicked them to the curb. I never had the patience for that shit. But with Alana, it didn’t matter. She was my girl, my match, the only one who could take my shit and give it right back, and I didn’t care.
But it’s over now, I remind myself. I try to put her out of my head as we check out a few different locations—an empty street with mostly boarded-up houses, an area of the city being renovated that’s full of modern-style apartment buildings and one massive, historic Catholic church that makes for a cool juxtaposition, a gorgeous park with the skyline in the background. It’s hard not to think of her, though, because I wouldn’t even be doing this if it weren’t for her. She got me started. She encouraged me, and badgered the hell out of me until I agreed to try.
Finally, sick of being distracted every few minutes by Blue chattering away with Hillary, I ask them to go pick me up some lunch while I sit and think about what I want to do. If I didn’t think Hillary liked him back, I would’ve sent Blue alone, but I’m picking up some vibes that tell me she might not totally be against the idea of hooking up with him, she’s just not as obvious about it as he is. For one thing, she hasn’t paid nearly as much attention to me as she has recently, which is a relief, and I catch her doing some of those things girls do when they’re into someone—playing with her hair while she looks at him, biting her lower lip. So I ask them both to go so that I can get some time alone to think and work, and when they both agree, I let out a sigh of relief once they get into their Uber.
Not fifteen minutes later, Blue calls me, probably asking me a question about my food order or where I want them to meet me, but I just send it to voicemail. I don’t want to talk right now, and I figure if I give them some time to be alone together, they’ll probably hit it off, which would be good for both of them.
It finally clicks with me where I want to go, and without a second thought, I head out to the beach where I took Alana on our first date. It seems like a good place to sit with my thoughts for a little while, to try to make sense of all of this that’s happened. Because God knows it doesn’t make sense right now, not really.
All it takes is a few minutes of sitting on the sand and listening to the water for the memories to come flooding back—all of them, in a dizzying rush that leaves my chest aching and me short of breath. Alana getting into the car after I convinced her to come out on the date with me, me taking photos of her right here, the candid ones that I loved of her free and laughing and completely herself—or as much herself as she could ever be when she was sharing her body with another person. The posed ones I took of her were beautiful, sexy, but I never loved anything so much as capturing her in those moments when she didn’t entirely realize it.
I remember the feeling of her body underneath me, the aching desire of wanting her more than anything in the world in that moment, more than I’d ever wanted any other woman. The taste of her mouth, the feeling of her slick and hot on my fingers, that rush of adrenaline that comes the moment when you know a girl is going to let you fuck her—or at least I had thought I was going to get to that afternoon, before she flipped out on me.
That memory makes me laugh, but only for a second, because the rest of them are right behind it—the memory of her in bed with me for the first time, the way we fought before we wound up fucking, like so many other times, and other memories too. The good is mixed in with the painful, tangled up in a way that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to extricate them, because the memory of her gorgeous eyes looking up into mine as we said our wedding vows is a reminder that she’ll never be my wife again. The memory of our honeymoon is just a reminder of all the adventures I wanted to have with her that will never happen, the road trip we’d planned that will never exist. Remembering her spread out underneath me on the kitchen table, begging for more as I made her come, well…that just reminds me that that’s the moment I lost her, that my stupid mouth ran away with me and scared her shitless.
And now she’s gone. I know Megan will do everything she can to keep Alana at bay, and why wouldn’t she? She has everything now—her Prince Charming, his rich family, their baby. Alana is gone, as good as dead to me. And it’s time for me to let her go.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the wind taking the words from my mouth and throwing them out towards the water, where no one can hear. “I’m sorry for fucking up and scaring you away. I wish we could have had the life together that we planned. I wish we could have had every fucking thing in the world. God knows I wanted to give it all to you. But that’s done now. So I’m going to do what you asked, and let you go. I’m going to get the fuck over it and stay away so that maybe at least some part of you gets to have
a good life. So you’re not torn in two forever.”
I reach for my camera then, taking a series of pictures—of the sand where the water is lapping at it, the space where Alana once stood, where she no longer is. I stand up and get a wide shot of the beach, marking in my memory where we kissed, where we swam together, where I nearly made love to her for the first time, where she ran away. I take shot after shot, seeing the empty spaces, and reminding myself with them that she’s gone.
Forever.
As I pack up my equipment into my bag and start to walk up the beach, I see a girl at the top of the hill, a camera pressed to her face as she takes a series of shots. When she lowers it, she catches my eye, and I notice that she’s pretty—not gorgeous like Alana, but pretty in a cute way. Short, with light brown hair tied up in a ponytail, freckles, and blue eyes. She smiles at me, shading her eyes with her hand, and then catches sight of my camera bag.
“Oh, so you’re a photographer too,” she says brightly. “What kind of camera do you shoot with?”
“A Nikon DSLR,” I tell her, shouldering the bag.
“What kind of photography do you like to do?”
I shrug. “Landscapes. Candids. Whatever strikes my fancy at the moment.” I keep the answers short and to the point, hoping to deter her, but it’s clear that she’s the sort of extroverted, bubbly personality that can make a friend anywhere.
“Oh, that’s so cool! I do landscapes too. I like taking candid shots, but they’re just not how I want them to be yet. It’s like I just miss that moment every time that would be the perfect shot. So I guess I need to get my timing down. But I’m getting better at lighting.” She grins widely at me, and her ponytail bounces as she lowers her camera to let it hang around her neck. “I’m Kylie,” she says, holding out her hand.
“Ian,” I say, taking her hand and shaking it. I can’t help it; I’m slightly intrigued. It’s been a while since I’ve been around this sort of vibrant energy.
“Would you want to go shoot together sometime?” She laughs a little self-consciously. “All my friends are academic nerds. They’re not really into this sort of thing, and I think they see it as a waste of time. Like I’m not applying myself to something serious. I don’t really have any artistic friends.” She hesitates, taking a look at my face. “Oh, I’m sorry. I sound like I’m trying to pick you up, don’t I? I’m really not. I promise. I just went through a bad breakup, actually, and—”
“It’s okay,” I interrupt her with a laugh. “I get it. Maybe we can sometime.” I fish into my pocket and hand her a business card. “Right now, I’m meeting some friends. It was nice to meet you, Kylie.”
“You too!” she calls after me as I walk up to the parking lot. To my surprise, Hillary and Blue are waiting there by my car with a takeout bag of food. I frown at Blue as I put my things in the trunk.
“How’d you find me?” I ask him shortly, and he shrugs.
“An old friend told me about this place. I figured it might be where you were at.”
I know from that much that it was Alana who told him, but it’s clear that Blue doesn’t want to talk about her and to be honest, I don’t either.
The ride back to my apartment is quiet. Blue drives so I can eat the burger and fries they picked up for me, and Hillary stays silent in the backseat. I feel lighter than I have in days, as if the time on the beach helped relieve me of some of the pain and heartache that I’ve been carrying with me.
When we get back, Blue and Hillary suggest that we go out for drinks, and I turn them down with a tired smile. “I think I’m going to make it an early night, actually,” I tell them, and they both look disappointed. “You guys should go, though,” I say encouragingly, and I see Blue’s face brighten.
Hillary gives me a quick hug and heads outside, but Blue hangs back for a second, looking as if he wants to ask me something.
“Spit it out, Blue,” I tell him with a smirk.
“I just, uh…” He runs a hand through his hair and looks at me. “Goddamn man, she’s so fucking beautiful. And funny, too! And smart…I think she likes me on top of all of that. But I wanted to make sure it was cool if I asked her out. I know you’ve known her longer and maybe had some ideas. I don’t want to step on your toes or anything.”
I laugh. “No man, it’s fine. If anything, I encourage it. Hillary’s cool.”
Blue visibly relaxes. “Thanks, man. I’ll let you know how it goes.” He winks at me and turns to leave, and then hesitates, glancing back. “I think you’re going to be okay, Ian. I think everything’s going to be alright.”
I give him a small grin. “Yeah, man. I think so too.”
13
Megan
I’m so nervous I’m almost trembling as we get out of the car to go into the doctor’s office for my first appointment. It’s a mixture of nerves and excitement, and I can tell Kam is feeling the same way. His takes the form of fussing over me…opening my door, holding the door of the clinic for me, his hand on the small of my back as if I’m already heavily pregnant and need to be steadied instead of only a few weeks along and feeling mostly the same as I ever have—except for the morning sickness that seems to have cropped up recently.
This doctor’s office is nothing like any clinic I would have expected to go to. It’s a women’s health clinic. My appointment was set up by Helen and Dexter. It’s sleek and beautiful. Everything is modern, the carpet plush, and the chairs comfortable. It’s clear they spared no expense. Instead of an office water cooler, there’s a mahogany bar with options like iced or hot green tea, hot chocolate, or exotic coffees straight from a smooth black Keurig machine or a Nespresso. The waiting room is full of obviously upper-class couples—women dressed in business attire or designer maternity clothes, their husbands usually older and equally well-dressed. I can tell that Kam is impressed as I get my paperwork from the receptionist and sit down to fill it out as much as I’m able, given how little I know about my family history.
The receptionist doesn’t look harried or overworked. She greets me warmly and takes down my information before handing me the opaque black clipboard with the neatly printed forms, and when I tell her that I’m not sure how much information I have, she kindly tells me not to worry about it and to just do the best I can.
I’ve come a hell of a long way, I think, as I sit down in one of the soft upholstered seats. Kam is attentively at my elbow as I start to make my way down the page. I’ve come a long way from my time in foster care and my crappy little apartment in Indiana, and it’s hard to believe that I won’t ever be back somewhere like that. My future is secure with Kam, as well as everything that comes with it. I never imagined having this kind of life, and I would love Kam no matter what, but there’s a sense of safety that comes with it that I wonder if I’ll ever get used to or fully be able to embrace.
The nurse is a pretty dark-haired woman who looks like she’s in her mid-thirties, dressed in crisp pink scrubs. I hand her the clipboard and explain the omissions, and she smiles sweetly at me. “Don’t worry,” she tells me. “Most of that isn’t all that necessary for this sort of appointment anyway. We’re just going to do the boring stuff now. Take your temperature and height and weight and all of that, and then you’ll wait for the doctor to come back. How are you feeling?”
“A little nauseous,” I tell her honestly. “But otherwise, alright.”
“Some tea might help,” she says, and Kam jumps up immediately. “I’ll go get it,” he volunteers. The nurse watches him go with an amused look on her face.
“First time?” she asks. “I’d assume so, but you never know.”
“Yes, this is our first baby,” I say. A small shiver of happiness washes over me when I say the words, and I’m experiencing all kinds of different emotions. “Our baby,” “first baby,” all of those things speak to a lifetime of happiness with Kam, of family and more children after this, and all of the things I never dared to hope that I’d get to have.
“Well, you’ve got a good one t
here,” the nurse says as she jots down my vitals. “Alright, just change into this gown, and the doctor will be in as soon as she can.”
Kam brings me a cup of hot green tea and I sip it as I sit on the table, patiently waiting for the doctor. I’m almost finished with it when she knocks and comes in, a warm smile on her face. She looks a little older than the nurse, with dark brown hair pinned back and a motherly air about her, and I immediately feel at ease. In fact, I’ve felt that way the entire time I’ve been here. I’m suddenly overwhelmingly grateful for Cal, Dexter, and Helen, and the ability to be here instead of crammed into a public clinic full of screaming children and harried mothers and overworked staff.
The doctor greets us both, shaking my hand and Kam’s, and asks what we do. She congratulates Kam on his transfer to the new school. “Congratulations to you both,” she says as she takes a seat. “It sounds like you’re both in a wonderful place in your lives for this. And congratulations on the engagement,” she says, winking at me as she notices the ring on my finger.
This could have gone very differently, I think, as the doctor explains what procedures she’ll be doing in detail, making sure to pause to see if Kam or I have any questions. I know if I’d had to use my state insurance, it would have been nothing like this. I can’t help but feel as if I’ve hit some kind of lottery.
“Now, I’d like to do this part of the exam alone with Megan,” the doctor says. “It can be a bit intrusive, and most ladies would prefer to have some privacy. I’ll let you know when you can come back in.”
Kam obligingly steps out while the doctor does the first part of the exam, asking me a few questions about my periods and my sexual history. I flinch a little at the last question, wondering if I should mention the episode with Alana and Ian, but I don’t. It doesn’t matter, I remind myself. All that’s over now. You only have the future to look forward to. Ian has accepted it. He’s gone. And Alana will stay away too. The doctor doesn’t mention my disorder, and I hope that’s a good sign, that that means it doesn’t matter. That I’ll be fine as long as I avoid undue stress, which pregnant women are supposed to do anyway.
