Page 38 of Pining for You

I train the camera on a very fat pigeon perched on the sidewalk. He’s pretty freaking adorable and will make for fun B-roll. Of course, the moment I zoom in is when he chooses to… relieve himself. Diya appears over my shoulder.

“That’s good luck, you know,” she says. “Definitely material.”

“All right, get outta here,” I say, and she pats me on the head. “Wait! Here we go.” I call her back to the scene, because thankfully I spot a couple coming down the street wearing matching Christmas sweaters embroidered with a grinning Rudolph—one red, one green—having a very animated conversation. My heart skips. Now here are people who really get the holiday spirit. I redirect the camera their way and imagine their backstory as they approach. Maybe they’re in the midst of their favorite Christmas Eve Eve tradition—wearing the sweaters a relative knitted just for them, and are headed to this pizzeria. Maybe they’re debating how best to decorate their tree or which rendition of “Santa Baby” is best.

But as they come into earshot, I start to pick up the actual conversation.

“I told you, I hate this sweater,” the girl says. “Why can’t we just dress like normal people?”

“I don’t know. It’s Rachel’s thing,” her partner replies. “You know she’s obsessed with all this commercial Christmas nonsense.”

“Next year I’m not doing this.”

“You say that every year.”

“I mean it this time!”

They look up and catch me filming and I pivot as quickly as possible on my heel, back to the door. I can’t handle another dirty look on camera, when I’m actively trying to find human bright spots.

Diya pats me on the shoulder.

“Gives the film some drama,” she says. I nod.

“Thanks for that reframe.”

It’s not that I think Diya is right that this might be a depressing project, but it’s turning out to be a lot harder than I thought.

“So, maybe she’s not home?” Diya says finally as I head back to the group. I didn’t want to shatter Izaac’s ornaments, so I’m glad she’s jumping in before we all get hypothermia. He looks a little embarrassed, like he should know where his sister is. He purses his lips, and I think he’s about to reluctantly give in when finally, there’s a crackle from the intercom.

“Breaker breaker one two,” comes a dude’s voice on the other side.

“Um, hello?” Izaac says, clearly confused by the response.

“Hi!” the voice says.

“Hi,” Izaac returns, then gets to the point. “I’m here for Audra. This is her brother, Izaac.”

“Sorry, dude, can’t hear. Speaker’s kinda busted.”

The voice is loud and clear, but maybe the busted part is on the other end.

“I’m here for Audra!” Izaac raises his voice.

“Can’t! Hear! You!”

Izaac huffs and rolls his head around on his neck in frustration.

“IT’S IZAAC FOR AUDRA,” he shouts, but before he repeats that he is Audra’s brother, the door opens, sending him stumbling back.

A scrawny white dude in sweatpants appears, a giant halo of blond curls sitting on top of his head like a labradoodle.

“Izaa-aac!” he says finally, and pulls Izaac in for a bro hug. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, uh, likewise,” Izaac says, smoothing out his overcoat. “So, is Audra home?”

“Audra!” the bro says, as if he needs to shout every name he hears or it isn’t real. “Great girl,” he says.

Diya, Cash, and I exchange looks. Izaac nods and waits.