Gatz was absolutely right. I need some time with my camera, some time to get lost with the creative muse.
I look through the viewfinder and twist the lens, zooming in a skosh on the two wiener dogs at play in the park.
Gas Works Park is so very pleasant this chilly but clear-skied first day of December. I have nothing on my schedule, and it feels wonderful. No work at The Cup and the Cake, no book club meeting, no meeting with the magazine or assignment to madly work on and turn in. Not even the possibility to apply for Zambia yet. Today it’s just me, my camera, the eclectic setting about me, and the chance to delve more into my photos to get a start on that coffee table book.
I tried to lend a hand in planning Robin’s baby shower that’s coming up next month, maybe even see if there was something I could do for her wedding, but she said the wedding’s barely a blip on her radar with Phillip coming soon. That, and Claire has taken to the planning of both events with sheer gusto.
One of the wiener dogs makes a flying leap across the sallow lawn, catching the Frisbee with swift precision. I zoom in, focus, and snap a photo, right as the second dog comes running up beside it, taking the Frisbee in its mouth, too.
Click. Click.
The dogs whip their heads about in frissons of excitement. Click. One gets a bit whipped about too hard by the other, and its back legs fly up into the air for a second. Click.
I laugh lowly and take a few more shots of the dogs for fun before turning my lens some yards off to the side. I focus on the young couple seated on a red and white checkered blanket. They’re wearing thick winter coats and are wrapped in an embrace. Click.
The guy points off to somewhere in the distance over Lake Union, and the girl’s head tilts back in what I’m sure is laughter. Click. Then their faces meet—click. Then the kiss. Click.
I look through some of the shots I’ve taken of the young couple in love and can’t hold back the grin that’s tugging at the corners of my mouth. Though I might totally look like a creeper, I love these random, candid shots so much. Capturing love—young love, true love, lasting love, aged love—is a breathtaking experience.
Shutting my camera off, I lean on my knees, legs criss-crossed, and I take in my surroundings.
Yes, I think, Gatz was one hundred percent right.
I just needed to get out, have some me-time, and have a date. Not a blind one. Not with some handsome and fling-type guy from my book club. A date with my camera.
***
As I take my seat in one of the foldaway chairs drawn about in a tight circle in the familiar, dimly lit library room, I don’t feel anything going on in my stomach. I’m relieved.
Ben’s here. He’s sitting almost directly across from me. But I’m not having nervous butterflies of attraction (I still think he’s pretty hot, and my one-night fling with him only affirmed my hot-body-all-over suspicions), nor am I feeling all nauseous or woozy because I’m awkwardly placed in the same room as a former lover. I don’t feel anything, and that feels great.
I’m not surprised, though. Fate’s taken me all over the map when it comes to love (and lust). I learned long ago that I can’t let anyone or anything stand in my way of doing something that I want or enjoy, like this book club.
Sure, if Ben and I’d been going out for a while, like with Jaime, then tonight’s book club meeting would definitely be awkward. I’d certainly have some kind of rousing in my stomach. Even then, though, I’d smile, be friendly, and move on. No point in dwelling on the past, because then you’ll never be able to live in the moment and enjoy the now, or look forward to the future.
I flip to the first section of Eat, Pray, Love, roughly crease back the cover, and let my eyes slowly make their way to Ben’s. He’s sitting there, one leg crossed, ankle on knee, and he’s jiggling that wingtip-clad foot of his.
I tuck a loose braid behind my ear, and my long gold and coral earring makes a clinking sound. Ben’s looking right at me, his book also open, cover creased back, and one corner of his mouth is drawn up into a self-satisfied smile.
Clearing my throat, I sit up a bit straighter in my seat, as I’ve seen the lions do in Kenya when standing their ground among their pride; I’m proving my confidence. I return the smile, but a friendly and distant one. It’s my way of saying, “The past is the past, and I’m just fine.”
Ben’s grin disappears and he looks down at his book, tightly knitting together his brow, as if he’s all at once engrossed in the reading that Susie’s now doing.
I keep my eyes trained on him for a little while longer. He’s wearing that silly Homburg of his again.
“Beautiful,” Steve gasps, knocking my attention to the book. “That is a beautiful passage.”
“Agreed,” Susie says. She’s dabbing at her eyes with a hankie. “Okay, on to the ‘pray’ section.” Her voice is filled with authority as she leads tonight’s discussion. “The departure from pure pleasure to more of a selfless and spiritual stage.”
When it comes time to discuss the last few pages and collect everyone’s conclusions and thoughts, I look up at Ben once more. He’s avoided me since we locked eyes and shared those fleeting smiles earlier. Maybe, like the lion in the pride who stands his ground, I’ve motioned for the intruding young male lion to move about his way.
To each their own, I suppose.
I shrug to myself and flip to the Post-It-marked page at the end of the book that I found to be particularly striking.
“What does everyone think of the section of ‘Love’?” Susie queries. “Or the book as a whole? As all three sections, combined?”
I hold up two fingers.
Susie motions for me to proceed.
I look down at the section of highlighted text I made. “I think,” I begin, “the last section, section one-oh-eight, really sums up the meaning of the memoir.” I cast about briefly, and everyone’s listening on, silent. “I mean,” I hastily add, “for me, at least. The part, right on the first page of the last section… ”
The sound of ruffling pages fills the silent air as everyone turns to the passage, my most favorite one in the entire book.
“When she talks about the Zen Buddhists’ belief about the creation of the oak tree,” I say. “The two forces that are at play in its creation—the acorn seed, which is obvious to everyone, and then the less apparent force, the future tree. The tree itself.” I pause and smile faintly.
I go on. “The way the author explains how she thinks that like the oak tree, she is who she is because of the two forces at work on her. Her past and younger self, her future self… Together the forces pull and tug and create and…well…there’s balance. Just like the pleasure indulged in Italy, the spiritual sought in India, the love found in Indonesia. It’s when she finds love…” I pause to swallow, feeling myself start to soften with emotion. “…It’s when she finds love, she finally finds balance. It’s in her search for love that enables her to balance her spiritual and pleasurable experiences, just like two forces at work to create one beautiful thing. One beautiful oak tree.” I inhale deeply. “One beautiful and whole person.”
Susie brings her hankie to her eyes and cries, “Beautiful. I couldn’t have said it any better myself. I love this book.”
“It’s a lovely conclusion to a lovely book,” I say.
“Such a moving one,” Susie gasps. “I can’t say I relate to it, but I certainly take something from it.”
“You probably relate with all your travels, Emily,” Steve says with a held-out hand. “Or at least take something from it.”
I give a small shrug. “I think I can glean something from every book, Steve. Some resonate more with me than others, but I always find some connection—however big or small—or some impact with our readings.”
“Even Pride and Prejudice?” Erin asks with a simper.
“Ha, ha. Even Darcy Fitzpatrick William, whatever, yes. Like I said, some books more than others.”
“Well,” Steve says, closing his book with a loud clap, “
I’d say it’s about time to polish off the rest of the snacks. Great choice, Susie.”
As murmuring fills the air among the group, I manage to share a quick glance with Ben. He’s pulling another half-grin, and I reciprocate, shoulders back and head held high.
Like I said, with every book, every relationship, there’s something to be gleaned, something to be learned, something to be remembered.
“Before we close,” Steve says loudly, drawing attention, “I wanted to let you know that next month, to start the new year out, we’re having bring-a-friend night. So if you know someone who’d be interested in joining our club, feel free to bring ‘em round.” He rubs his hands together. “Until then, have a Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and, Emily.”
“Yeah?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Your turn next month. I expect you won’t be assigning any Jane Austen.”
“Oh, ha, ha.”
“Your book suggestion?”
All eyes are on me. I put my copy of Eat, Pray, Love in my patchwork bag and slip the fraying strap over my shoulder.
“We’re going to the roaring twenties,” I say cheerily. “The golden age. Save Me the Waltz, by Zelda Fitzgerald.” I stand up. “Been meaning to read it for some time now, but other books have been getting ahead of it. So…now’s my chance.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Operation Blind Date is not going to be a flop, sister,” Claire says earnestly. She narrows her eyes, lightly nodding her head. “The other guys just weren’t meant to be.”
She withdraws a Sharpie from her handbag and scribbles something down under the only column on the piece of construction paper that doesn’t have a bold, black ‘X’ on it.
“My feelings exactly,” I say, taking a drink of the remaining swill in my wine glass.
“Here,” Lara says, holding out a bottle of nearly drained rosé.
“I’m good.” I cover the top of my empty glass. “Early day at Sophie’s tomorrow.”
She nods understandingly and sets the bottle down. “You finally found that hunky, gorgeous dream man for Em, have you, Claire?” she asks, giving me a sideways glance.
“Absolutely!” Claire states spiritedly. She tosses the Sharpie onto Robin’s coffee table and holds up the piece of paper. She shows it off to our half-circle group of four.
“What does it say?” Robin squints behind her glasses and inches forward out of her seat on the couch. She quickly gives up in her movements, her very large and round belly not allowing her much wiggle room.
“Let me see,” Lara says, gesturing to the paper.
Claire hands it off to Lara and says, “His name’s Shane.” She helps herself to a glass of the rosé. “A mutual friend of Conner’s and Chad’s.” She licks her lips. “Turned thirty not far back; also lives on a houseboat, near Chad. Was in the same fraternity as the guys; a good friend.”
“Attractive?” Robin asks.
“He lives at the gym. Rock-hard body. Laidback and fun guy,” Claire replies.
“What’s he do?” Lara looks up from the paper.
“He’s an entrepreneur.” Claire’s beaming.
“Computer guy?” I assume.
“I don’t know.” Claire busies herself with her rosé, taking a very long-drawn drink.
“Well,” I say keenly, “what does he do?”
“He has his own business,” her voice echoes through her wine glass.
“That is usually what an entrepreneur does,” I say through a shared giggle with Lara. “But what exactly?”
“Yeah, what does he do?” Lara presses with curious eyes.
“I don’t know,” Claire says, exasperation in her voice. “Conner said he’s a mutual friend, an entrepreneur, and that he’d probably be a good match for Em. Hey, he’s single and interested.”
“And that’s all it takes?” Robin says, looking nonplussed.
“Give me a break,” Claire says. “Conner said he’d be a great choice so, Em?” She looks to me. “You’ll give him a try?”
I pick up the paper for myself. “Shane,” I read aloud what Claire’s written in her column, little hearts and stars all around his name. “Does he have a last name?”
“I don’t know,” Claire says. “Does it matter?”
I shrug. “So Shane… Hmm. Sure!” I set the paper down. “Sure, I’ll go out with this mutual friend, business-owning guy with the rock-hard body.”
“He’s supposed to be a real hottie and available and interested,” Claire gushes. “This is a win-win, Em.”
“Let’s hope his ripped body isn’t thanks to an unnatural obsession with the gym,” Robin says. “Total turn-off. Remember that guy back in college, Em?” She clicks her tongue a few times and looks upward. “Ohhh, what was his name? That guy on the crew team?”
Lara snaps her fingers. “Yes, yes!” She looks to Claire for help. “What was his name again?”
“Desmond,” I answer.
“Desmond!” Lara shrieks, snapping some more. “That’s it!”
“Yeah, well,” I say with a chuckle. “Let’s hope this Shane guy has a hot body like Desmond but checks the ridiculous gym obsession and massive ego at the door.”
“He’ll totally work out,” Claire says reassuringly. “Conner and Chad both said he’d be a great setup.”
“And when’s this hot date?” I ask.
“Next Saturday good for you?” Claire purses her lips.
“Perfect,” I say. “I was actually supposed to do a shoot over on Lopez Island for the magazine then.”
“Lopez Island?” Lara blurts out, taken aback. “That’s like a hundred miles away!”
“Yeah, it’s a big shoot,” I say, carefree.
“Congratulations!” Claire says. “Wait. But you said you were supposed to do a shoot there. What happened?” She looks a little worried. “Did you get fired?”
I laugh and shake my head. “No, no. I can’t get fired anyhow, goofy girl. I’m freelance.” Her nose is still wrinkled. “Case-by-case work,” I clarify. “I’m not actually employed, so they can’t fire me. Stop assigning me work, yes.”
“So they stopped assigning you work?”
“Claire,” I say calmly, “it’s nothing like that. At all. I was supposed to go, but I turned it down.”
“But Lopez Island is gorgeous,” Lara says. “The grazing sheep and the pastures, the vineyard, the beaches… It’s a nature photography dream!”
I make a ho-hum face and motion with my head. “Yeah…but the gig was attached to a full-time employment offer.”
“That’s awesome!” Robin says cheerfully.
“I didn’t take it,” I say simply. “So I’m not doing the Lopez shoot.”
“Why didn’t you take it?” Lara looks thunderstruck. “Full-time offer, hon? That’s a promotion.”
“It’s full-time. You know me, girls. Not my thing.”
“Oh, how I wish I had your loaded trust fund piggy bank,” Claire says with a sigh. She crosses her arms over her chest and falls backwards into Lara’s lap. “No worries about needing to take a job.”
“Photography’s not a job,” I say. “It’s not going to become one. I like the freelance work, so when the magazine offered me the position again, I put my foot down for the last time. They can have me as I am or find someone else.”
“And?” Robin’s eyes grow round.
“I’m still freelancing.” I make a calming motion with my hand. “But not doing the Lopez Island shoot, which means…” I look over at Claire, who’s now fiddling with Lara’s BlackBerry. “I can go out on this date with Shane. Claire?”
“Claire,” Lara moans, taking the phone from her, “leave my stuff alone, goofball.”
“How many frickin’ unread emails do you have on there, Lara?” Claire pulls herself up from Lara’s lap.
“Work’s my life,” Lara answers.
“And that’s not what Em wants,” Robin points out.
“It’s not me. Exactly.”
“You have
the freedom and ability to do what you want, Emily,” Robin says. “All the power to you, sister.”
“You want to move, don’t you?” Lara says. “Get back on the road?”
Before I can respond, Claire pipes in, “No. Not yet! You’re not going anywhere until you’ve had your date with Shane. It is going to be perfect. Just you wait!”
***
“Sorry I missed the get-together last night,” Sophie says, turning down the tunes that are streaming through the small radio in the café’s kitchen. “The final Operation Blind Date planning, so Claire told me.”
“No trouble,” I say, slowly rolling out pastry. “Jackie couldn’t make it either. Apparently she’s off with Andrew on some business trip.”
“He actually took her with him this time?”
“I know, finally,” I say, happy that Jackie hasn’t been having many dramatic episodes lately. “It’s a short trip, couple days or something, but I’m glad she’s getting out and doing something.”
“Yeah,” Sophie says. “Glad she’s getting to spend time with her husband.”
Gatz enters the kitchen and makes a beeline for the sink. “Those pains au chocolate just about done?” he asks.
“Just put a batch in the oven,” I say. “Rolling out more right now.”
“So,” Sophie says in a quick-to and flirty voice, “Claire tells me this hot date with this Shane character is next weekend.”
“That’s right,” I say with a sly smile. “We’re going out for drinks, over at some bar near the lake close to where he lives. He lives not far from Chad over there, apparently. Told Claire he’ll meet me there I guess.”
“Ooo,” Sophie coos. “Hittin’ the bar, close to his place…” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.
“What-ever,” I say with a sigh.
“No, seriously. I hope Shane turns out to be a great date.” She begins to help me roll the pains au chocolat “You deserve it. Have had enough duds.”
“Oh, they’re not all bad. Just different.”
When Girlfriends Take Chances Page 25
