I slam the heel of my palm on the steering wheel over and over again, only stopping because now, on top of everything else, my hand and wrist hurt.
I take a deep breath, in through my nose and out through my mouth. “Get a grip, Ella,” I scold myself. I turn the key one last time, and by some miracle my car comes to life. It’s making interesting sounds, but it’s on.
I hurry through my shopping, picking up essentials on autopilot. The cereal I like isn’t on sale anymore and the apples are small, but I find coffee for a good price, so it isn’t all bad. When I get back to the car, I cross my fingers and toes when I turn the key. The car starts after the third try. I may have to admit that the junky car I bought off some random guy at a random garage in a city I had never been to, is on its last leg. Maybe I’ll take my time and look for a nicer car. I can save up, take public transit when necessary. Walk whenever possible, something more appealing now that it’s spring.
Once I have the groceries away, I check my bank account, which is growing every month. It’s not a lot, but it’s all mine. Ethan doesn’t know this money exists. He got me my last job working at his firm as a receptionist, so he knew exactly how much I got paid and when it hit my account. Looking back, I can see now that it was another way he was controlling me. But this money, this job, this life, is all mine. I got myself here, found a job, and have my own apartment. My name is on the lease agreement, unlike the mortgage for our house in Toronto. It’s not much, but I’m proud of it.
After that, I check my email. I filter through the spam messages and newsletters I signed up for but never read. And then I see it. Sadie’s Strangers, accepting my application.
I blink at the screen. I was accepted? Me? Well, that’s flattering, but I can’t actually do it. It would be weird to do a photoshoot with a stranger. I’ve never done anything like that in my life.
But . . . isn’t this exactly why I signed up for it in the first place? I suck in a huge breath, hold it, and blow it out. I think of all the things I’ve wanted to do but Ethan said no. All the adventures I secretly wanted to have but never voiced. All the dreams I longed to live but never mentioned because I knew he’d laugh and call them, me, silly.
I accept Sadie’s invitation. In a little over three weeks, I will be doing a photoshoot with a stranger.
CHAPTER 03
It’s funny how time really does fly. Work keeps me busy and before I know it, the day has arrived. I spend an hour digging through clothes, searching for something nice to wear. When I left Toronto, I packed only my comfiest clothes and go-to’s. Enough shirts, pants, and underwear that I would have things to wear, even if I’ve never really loved them. Ethan always wanted me to dress girly. He would have loved it if I wore frilly dresses every day or at least had more bright colours in my closet. But that was never me. I compromised with some cool colours and basics in black. He couldn’t get mad because they were well made and in classic styles.
But really, what I wanted to wear was something edgier. Something fun but dark. If I had to describe my style, I’d call it preppy goth. Long, blackdresses. Heavy eye makeup. Black jeans and black tops, accessorizing with pops of colour. Since moving to Victoria, I’ve gone to a few thrift stores and have found some pieces I really like.
In the end, I choose a black velvet dress with long lace sleeves. I add a bold silver belt and pair it with red flats with little bows at the toes. I take extra time with my makeup, making sure my eyeliner is perfect. Putting on makeup is something I love doing, but was another thing Ethan shamed me for, so I stopped. I love the creativity it gives me. Love that it’s another way to express myself. It’s something that, once upon a time, I thought I could do as a career. My mother made sure to snuff that out immediately and pushed me into a business degree.
I apply my favourite shade of red lipstick, put in some silver and black art deco earrings I found during my last visit to the thrift store, and tuck my hair behind my ears. I run my eyes over myself in the mirror.
“Wow,” I breathe. “This is me.” A bubble of laughter escapes my lips. For once, I finally look like me. No mother telling me to dress nicely. No boyfriend telling me to look the part of his girlfriend. Just me looking like I want and doing something that excites me.
I know my style isn’t for everyone, and I hope I’m not judged for my look today. I was shamed so much for expressing myself that I learned to blend in rather than be me. It’s difficult to let go of that line of thinking. Old habits die hard and all that. But I realize now it doesn’t matter what my mother or ex thought of me. They’re no longer in my life for a reason.
I leave my apartment filled with excitement. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. Probably not since I moved out of my mother’s house for university. I was free there, but too busy with schoolwork to really appreciate it. And then I met Ethan.
My car starts, barely, but it chugs along for the ten-minute drive from my downtown apartment to Government House where I was told to go for our photoshoot.
It’s a gorgeous day in May. Birds are singing, flowers are beginning to bloom, and the sun is shining. It’s perfect for an outdoor photography session.
Sadie’s instructions said to meet at the Bruce Pavillion, so after checking the map on my phone, I take the path that leads me there. When the pavilion comes into view, a beautiful structure of iron and glass, I immediately see a woman who I recognize as Sadie from my internet stalking. I followed her on social media as soon as I sent off my application, and when I was accepted, I went down a rabbit hole of her work. I read every post and all the comments, deciphering how she spoke to people, how those she worked with spoke of her. It helped calm my nerves. She seems genuinely nice, and her past clients sound like they had a great experience.
On the other side of Sadie is a trifold screen. I can see feet shuffling underneath the screen and my heartrate picks up. Behind that screen is my adventure.
“Ella?” Sadie calls out. She puts her hand up to her forehead to block out the sun. “You’re Ella, right?”
“Yes, that’s me,” I say, taking in the splashes of colour from the flowers in bloom and the cheery spring scenes surrounding us. “Am I dressed okay? I’m not sure my vibe matches the gardens.”
Sadie tilts her head to the side and smiles. “Ella, you look absolutely perfect. Gorgeous. You’re glowing. I cannot wait to photograph you.”
“Really?” My brows pull in. “Are you sure?”
“I really love your dress, Ella,” Sadie says, interrupting my thoughts. “The velvet is so luxurious, and paired with the lace and your colouring? And the way you did your eyes?” She whistles. “You’re a showstopper.”
I suck in a breath. No one has ever said that about me. “You really think so? I’m dressed wildly different than what most people would wear to a photoshoot in a garden.”
“Girl, if everyone dressed the same and talked the same and acted the same, life would be pretty fucking boring,” Sadie replies.
A laugh bursts out of me.
“Seriously, Ella. Beautiful.”
The light and pure excitement I see in Sadie’s eyes put me at rest. She sees me. She didn’t sneer at my clothes, she found beauty in it. In me.
