“So you used the experience to change,” she said.
“Yeah. “ He examined her face. “I’ve never told that to anyone. Ever.”
“Oh.” She flushed. “Thank you for trusting me with the story.”
He nodded. “It was a little like skinny-dipping.”
“No. That’s not at all like skinny-dipping!”
“Well, metaphorically speaking. You were stripped naked running away in front of people. I felt stripped raw in front of that guy, my real self showing. And it wasn’t a good one.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That does make sense.”
“Philosophy at thirty thousand feet. Maybe the thinner air lets our real thoughts escape more easily.”
“So you played chess as a kid, though? That’s cool.”
“Not according to my friends. They tolerated me because of my parents’ wealth and donations to the school. We were an important family, so my quirks were… accepted. The other kids on the chess team got mocked a lot, I think. I only did it because my father insisted. I was good at it, but I didn’t like the competitions.” He gave a half chuckle.
“Your so-called friends sound like assholes. And why didn’t you like the competitions?” She leaned in, entranced with his eyes, curious to hear his story.
He shrugged. “The fun was all gone from it when everyone kept watching like it was a football game, commenting on every move. It made me feel stifled. So eventually I quit.” He gave her a rueful grin. “And yes, you’re right about the friends. I found better ones in high school and college, real ones.”
“I never learned chess. I can speak three languages, though.”
“Which ones?”
“English, Polish, and French. I’m totally fluent. Accent’s not quite right, but I can keep up.”
“Tell me something in French.” His eyes were bright.
She responded automatically. “Tes yeux sont superbes et je veux t’embrasser.” Then she blushed.
“What does it mean? Was it dirty?” He grinned.
“I’ll never say.” Harper drank more water. “Do I look like a dirty girl to you?”
“Now that’s a question I can’t answer.” He laughed. “If I say no, it might be an insult. If I say yes, it could be construed as harassment. I like to joke, but even I have limits.” He quirked a brow. “With coworkers, anyway.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t mind anything right now.” Harper put the bottle back down.
“If you say so.” He examined her face. “You still nervous?”
She nodded. “It won’t go away now until we land. I just have to ride it out.”
The plane seemed to lunge forward, as if attacking something. She sucked in her breath.
“Hey, eyes on me, Harper. Let’s keep talking.”
“All right.”
“What’s your biggest goal in life?”
“What is this, a behavioral interview?” She pursed her lips.
“Yeah. That’s exactly what it is. Next you’ll bubble in a form to figure out if you’re an INXS or an FOMO.”
“Oh my God. Myers and Briggs would roll over in their graves. If they’re dead. Are they dead?”
He shrugged. “No idea. Come on, talking about important stuff will activate the part of your brain that’s succumbing to the anxiety and override it. Talk.”
“Fine.” She nodded. “My goals? So I like doing photography. It’s a good job. I want to keep doing that and start getting some really important clients, build my business and hire more people. I’d like to get really rich doing it. I know that sounds materialistic, and it is, in a way. But it also means success and stability.”
“What else?”
“What else? Well.” She paused. “I’d like to maybe write a book and have it sell well, a photograph book. Maybe I’d want to teach a class, someday.”
“And?”
“Zach, isn’t that enough?” She made a face of joking frustration. “That’s enough to keep me occupied for a decade at least.”
“Sure, for work. What about for pleasure?” He raised an eyebrow. “For fun.”
“Photography is fun.”
He waited.
“Well, I mean—travel, I guess. Although sometimes, like right now, the getting-there part is less than awesome. I want to see Machu Picchu and the Galapagos. I want to photograph them. I could get great pictures! Not just to publish, but—for me.”
“Okay, here’s a question.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s say you got a once-in-a-lifetime chance to visit Machu Picchu and the Galapagos Islands. Private tour, best in the world, all-access. All the places. As long as you want. Best naturalists to tell you what’s going on. But here’s the thing: You can’t bring your camera. Not even a cellphone camera. Nothing. Just you. Would you take it?”
CHAPTER 5
“ Zach, God! That’s a horrible question! That’s like telling me I get to go hear a symphony by the best orchestra in the world, but I have to wear earplugs.”
“Well, would you? Yes or no.”
“I’d want to go. But it would be so hard to know I was seeing these things for the only time in my life and I couldn’t capture them.”
“You could bring a journal. Your memory. But no camera.”
“That’s like asking me to go on a hike without a leg. My camera, Zach? It’s like part of me, you know? Part of my whole life. I don’t go anywhere without taking pictures. It’s like things are worth more to me when I get to photograph them. If I can’t take pictures, it’s like the experience is somehow flatter. Less worthwhile.”
“That’s so strange to me. Because for me,” he said, “it’s the opposite. If there are constantly cameras going, it feels like I’m missing out on the essence of what’s happening. Worrying about capturing it for the future instead of actually enjoying it in the moment.”
“But most of your trips involve photography and directing it—having people take pictures for your travel sites. Right?”
“Sure, but that’s the work part. I appreciate the pictures. But the times I really have fun are when it’s just me and the waves, for example. If I’m surfing. I don’t want a fucking picture of the water, I want to be in the water and with the water. I want to be the water, Harper. A picture’s not the same.”
“Okay, when it comes to surfing, I get that. But how about sightseeing, something gorgeous, like a waterfall?”
“Then I want to get lost in the moment, to just see it without any worries about posing or smiling in front of it. I don’t want to have someone tell me about apertures and shadows and whether or not it’s the right fucking time of day to get a good shot. I hear that all the time on the work missions. I just want to relax into the moment and go with the flow.”
She frowned. “But for me, photography is my flow, Zach. That’s how I enjoy and get into the moment.”
“Not while you surf, though.”
“I don’t know how to surf!” She turned to him. “And of course I like to look at things without the camera in the way.”
“Do you?”
“Of course I do.” She blinked. “Why do I feel sort of like you’re insulting me right now?”
“I’m not.” His voice was earnest. “I’m just telling you how I feel.”
“You shouldn’t insult the people you rely on to build your business success, Zach.”
“No.” He sounded frustrated. “Not an insult. Maybe an observation and a question rolled into one. Honestly, I’m not disrespecting you or what you do. Just trying to understand. It’s clearly more than a job to you. Is that right?”
“Yes.” She struggled to find the right words. “It’s part of my existence. Taking pictures is in my fingers and blood. Without the camera, my hands feel empty. It’s like all these opportunities are all around me and if I don’t have the camera, they disappear forever.”
“So you don’t think you could enjoy the Galapagos without your camera.”
“Not really, no. I’d be constantly regretful. I’d have to
say no to that trip.”
“Well, that’s sort of sad.”
“Well, what’s also sort of sad is that you can’t enjoy a night without a woman to fuck.” She flinched. “Sorry.” Although she wasn’t sorry that she’d thought it.
“Ouch.” He frowned. “That’s pretty harsh. And out of nowhere.”
“You have to admit that your relationships are somewhat plentiful and short.”
He scowled. “I’m sorry, how did we get from your photography to my sex life?”
“Truth at thirty thousand feet,” she retorted. “Thin air made me say it.”
His gaze softened into something both embarrassed and apologetic. “You’re thinking about that time in San Diego.”
She pulled away. “No, I’m not. I was just commenting, because, well, you don’t settle down. Right? That’s not your thing.”
“I think we should talk about it. It’s clearly been between us ever since.”
“No, we don’t have to talk about it. I think it’s better if we—”
“Look, I really didn’t mean to offend you or hurt you.” He sounded sincere. “Honestly. I like you, Harper. I liked you then. I thought we had a connection, an attraction. I wanted to investigate that.”
“Okay, and I understand that, and I felt it, too. I just, you know, I’m not so much into one-night stands. And I misunderstood, apparently. I thought you were interested in getting to know me. But when I showed up and you were naked in the pool with someone else, I realized that we just don’t have the same philosophy on what it means to get to know someone.”
“That’s not—”
“And it’s fine. It’s fine! I didn’t understand, but then I did, and I get it. It’s okay. And I enjoy working with you, and I absolutely appreciate you trying to help me relax through this fucking turbulence.”
He blew out a breath. “I tried to explain. She showed up. Uninvited. I didn’t expect her, nor did I expect you back that night.”
“Well, see, if I’m going on a date with someone to dinner tomorrow, I’m not going to fuck a stranger tonight. To me, that’s not how it goes. It’s not… wrong, Zach. But yes, I was hurt, okay, a little bit. And it was really weird and awkward.”
“I wasn’t going to fu—” He lowered his voice. “I wasn’t going to sleep with her, Harper. She came in, she took off her dress, she got into the pool, and she came right up to me. And yeah, okay, when she kissed me, I kissed her back. But I wasn’t going to sleep with her. I really did want to have dinner with you the next night. I was about to ask her to leave.”
“So tell me this. After I left. What happened then?”
He hesitated.
“Come on, Zach.”
“Well, I slept with her.” He looked sheepish.
“Oh my God. See? I knew it. I knew it!” She crossed her legs and scowled. “You’re such a whore.”
He laughed softly. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
He shrugged. “For hurting you.”
“I just want us to work together easily.” She looked at him.
“Harper, I like working with you, okay? You’re a great photographer, and you’re fun. And you don’t smell like salami.” He gave her a grin that made his dimple show, and she melted a little bit inside. “Josh was really on point about that.” He continued, “I’m sorry about that night. I handled it wrong. I don’t want to be an asshole, and I was to you, and for that I’m sorry.”
“So why did you even ask me out to dinner, then?”
“I don’t know.” He sounded honest. “I really did want to get to know you better, but when you saw me and her and got so mad, I could see that you were done with me. And then she was very persuasive and came up with some creative ways to, uh, make me feel better.” He sounded regretful. “I was sorry the next day, though, about that, about all of it. I wanted to call you and apologize, but I wasn’t sure what to say. Or how to say it. And when you yelled at me, I figured it was better to focus on the job.”
She nodded. “Yeah. That was probably the best thing, in the end.”
“So. Friends?” He held out his hand.
“We should shake on that?” She gave him a look.
“Unless you prefer to crush my bones to powder, like you’ve been doing for the past hour.” He shook his hand out and gave a mock grimace. “You’ve got a powerful grip.”
“You have no idea.” She gave him a wink.
“I’m sorry?”
“Well, now that we’re such good friends, you get to know the important things about me. And if you get to joke and talk about dirty things, so do I.”
“Noted.” He grinned, but something in his eyes flashed.
“You need strong, supple hands,” she continued, holding them both up and wiggling her finger, “to be able to manipulate the camera with ease for hours.”
“I imagine you do.” He sounded a little tense.
“Oh, it’s true. My hands have to be able to stroke the buttons softly, or push hard when necessary. A great grip. Hard, but also soft.”
“Okay.”
“Strong thighs, too, and knees. You know, constantly getting up and down. Working from my knees a lot.”
“Aha.”
“All tied up with the camera handles and leather straps.”
“Mmm.”
“Sweat dripping down my body, my muscles straining with exertion, all for that final elusive shot of pleasure.”
“Harper.”
“Yes?”
“I get it.”
Presently, the plane bucked, then dropped. There was no other way to describe it. One minute it was flying; the next, an elevator whose cable had been cut. Empty plastic cups flew around like hail. She wasn’t the only one who cried out, and when the plane leveled out, she sobbed, shaking. Someone’s drink had splattered all across the ceiling, caramel Coke spots. To her consternation, she found herself spending several torturous seconds wondering if they looked more like a Jackson Pollock painting or diarrhea, even while she felt panic overwhelming her. A hysterical giggle welled up in her throat and came out like a cough. Someone behind her cried.
Through the melee, the pilot’s voice broke in, calm and unperturbed. “Folks, I’m sorry about that. We hit a patch of what we call clear air turbulence. We dropped about, ah, probably about forty feet just now. The plane is perfectly safe. I, ah, have reports from a plane ahead of us that they encountered something similar. Because of the turbulent air, I’ve decided to divert and have us land in Phoenix, Arizona. Please sit tight and relax. I’m going to keep the fasten seatbelts sign on for the duration of the flight. Please stay seated. Thank you.”
Static, then, “If you lost any items during the turbulence, please stay seated, and the flight attendants will help you retrieve them when we land.”
Harper peered out at the wing, at the flashing lights, and wished the wing was ground. God, if only that wing, that solid beautiful metal wing, were ground to stand on.
Voices behind her: “Forty feet? What is he, insane? That was, like, at least three thousand feet in three seconds!”
Zach poked Harper. “That would be faster than the speed of sound. Pretty impressive, huh?” He winked.
She tried to smile. “I didn’t hear a sonic boom.”
The start of the descent, the plane tipping just slightly forward, was welcome and she felt a rush of joy—soon they’d be landing.
But she needed to talk, about important things, to help ground her. She turned to Zach and blurted out, “Have you ever been in love?”
He tilted his head. “I didn’t expect that.” He paused. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“It’s sort of more a yes or no question, Zach.”
“Well, it’s more complicated than that, though.” He was silent for a second. “I’ve cared about people deeply. Liked them a lot.”
“Have you ever been in a long-term relationship, though?”
“Of course.” He sounded tense. “But that didn’t end well. And
whatever emotions I had for her, for that—well, they ended up being not worth much. So.”
“But were you in love?”
“Well, I suppose so.” He shrugged. “Sure, okay, I was. But like I said, that ended, and not prettily. And it became obvious to me what I felt had not, in fact, been real love. How could it have been, when she left?” But his voice was more curious than angry. “If it didn’t last, could it really have been love?”
She bit her lip. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe.”
He raised his eyebrows. “It’s a yes or no question.”
She laughed. “Right. Nice. Well, I don’t know if it’s fair to judge emotions by how long they last, as if duration affects intensity. If it’s love, it’s love, whether it lasts for a minute or a lifetime.”
“It just seems that if it was real love, whatever that is,” he said, his voice low, “it would have lasted. No?”
She shrugged, helpless to know the answer. “I can’t say. But if it felt real, then it was real. That’s what I believe.”
“Well, I don’t know that I agree. And I’m not looking for love right now. Just… fun.”
“Just passing the time?”
“Isn’t that what we’re all doing, really, at heart, whether we’re in love or not? Just passing the time?” He glanced at the wing, then back at her face. “The trick is to pass it well, to live to the fullest, I think.”
She glanced past him to the wing, the flashing lights giving her comfort. “That’s why I like photography, then. That’s my full.”
“Well, that’s why I like my form of enjoyment.” He gave her a smirk. “Such as it is.”
“Whatever!” She slapped his arm.
The downward pull intensified, and she breathed out in relief. “I love that feeling,” she confided to Zach. “That tilt from horizontal to slightly down. It means we’ll be on the ground soon.”
He nodded. “So, have you been in love, then?”
“Well, yes, of course!” She rolled her eyes at the question, then bit her lip. “I guess. I mean, according to your definition, not. But according to mine, yes, at the time.” She paused. “Although, I suppose…”
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