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place I felt like I belonged. I was fifteen and it was the first
time in my whole life that I felt at peace.
“I worked part time at a fast-food place while I was going to
school. I needed the money for groceries and bills, since my
mom barely ever worked. I used some of that money to pay for
film and get it developed. I hid all the photos in shoeboxes
under my bed. I started getting good. At least, I thought I was
good. After I graduated, I had an artsy girlfriend who was, uh,
having sex with an older guy. Not dating, just messing around.
She called him her sugar daddy. He owned a gallery and had
some space because someone cancelled on him last minute.
She knew how into photography I was, and she asked him if I
could do a show. She gave him some of my photos to look at
and he liked them. He said yes.”
“And you ended up married to him?”
“Not him, no. Pierre, my late husband, was in LA for work
and passed by the gallery. He said he saw me through the
window before he saw my work, but that struck him next. We
dated for a few months. He was infatuated, at least that’s the
word I’d use. He asked me to marry him and work with him
and I said yes. Of course, I did. I knew that I—I hoped I could
make him happy. I wanted to. I wasn’t trying to use him or
hurt him, even though that’s how it obviously seems to others.
People have said that I used him as an escape….”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Oh, it’s true.” Adalynn’s throat worked, and Cassia’s chest
ached. “I did, but not the way people make it seem. I knew
what I was getting into. What I’d have to sacrifice. How my
life would be. I knew there would be joy, as well as frustration.
I knew I’d have to deny who I was and live a giant lie. I guess
