She just took a photo of her feet, and I’m positive that’ll be number 122 in her'My Sole Diary'series.
I watch her for a while, and I know after recent events, it could appear stalker-like, but I’m just enjoying that she’s not the scared, small version of herself that was curled up on that pink couch being held by my sister. It made me see her differently. Someonehad hurt her, and I didn’t like the way it made me feel. Like I needed to be out for revenge or punch a brick wall.
But now she’s smiling at a family of seven, yelling,“Say Cheese!”as she takes their photo for them. Then she shakes her head and walks over to them, positioning each person differently before taking a few more photos.
She hands the phone back to the mother, laughing at something I’m sure she said to ease the moment, like giving of herself is no big deal.
But I know it is.
I walk up to her. She doesn’t see me. She’s looking at herself in the reflective surface of the sculpture. I watch her mouth shift from a smile to surprise as my face appears beside hers in the distorted mirror.
“Oh, hi,” she says quickly as she spins around to face me, her curls flinging around and slapping her in the face before they settle wildly around her.
“Hi,” I reply, my hands in the pockets of my slacks.
She bites at her bare bottom lip as she stammers, “I…”
“Do you want me to take your picture?” I ask.
“What?” Her question is fast, out of her mouth before I’m even done asking my own question.
She’s nervous. It’s cute. And much better than mad.
“I just didn’t know if you wanted a picture standing in front of The Bean,” I explain.
“Oh, sure,” she replies.
She gives me her phone timidly after putting in her passcode.
“Lily says I’m terrible at this, but I’ll do my best,” I say.
She smiles. “Well, you’re not exactly a social media influencer.”
I smile back. “To Lily and Melanie’s dismay.”
I back up a few steps, focusing the camera on her. She’s smiling, but there’s something in her eyes that looks different. Soft and regretful, as if she wants to apologize but doesn’t want to voice it.
I know how that feels. I’m feeling it right now.
“Did you get it?” she asks.
I swallow and nod my head.
She’s beautiful, and I think I’ve known that from the very beginning. I just didn’t want to admit it because I was so hung up on hating her.
I extend the phone back to her. “Take a look.”
She swipes through the photos, and then a smirk pulls at her lips. “You really are terrible at this.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I told you.”
“Evan, I…” she begins, and then my phone rings. I leave it in my pocket, but she says, “You better get that. Besides, I'm meeting with someone for an interview in a few minutes.”
“An interview?” I ask.
“ForThe New York Standard,” she replies.
“Oh right,” I say as I nod my head, pulling my phone out of my pocket as it rings and seeing Melanie’s name.
