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“I have something someone else doesn’t, and I am grateful for it. Whether it be talent, skill, dumb luck. I have it, and I do my best to learn and keep it.”
“What happened after that?”
“The guy recommended me to a few of his other friends. I did a few weddings, but it wasn’t really fulfilling. Did birth once, never again. But I started taking city shots, then mountains, and this woman asked if I had a website she could buy my photographs. Remember, Enzo, this is seventeen years old, about to be eighteen-year-old Phoebe. All I have to my name is a camera, a laptop, and cash I saved over the years. I didn’t have a website business card. I didn’t even have a name.”
“I love you.” Kicking my feet to splash the water.
“And I love you. So I tell her I don’t have one. She asks if I post on social media. I say no, shit, I was trying to avoid high school and anything else. But she says I should try it out; I totally blow the idea off. I tell her I’m not into making friends. She says it’s the new way to gain followers, get exposure for your craft.” Phoebe chugs some water and then goes back to her story. I remember how I helped design her website after we met. She had an idea, but couldn’t come up with how to make it work.
Those social media followers the woman was talking about, yeah, they and the sponsors pay for her innovative product.
“Then the woman takes two hours to show me how to set it up, have the same social name on every account. She was wearing a suit; I am sure she had somewhere to be. A place she needed to get back to work. It was Seattle; I was down in the business district, trying to find a side street to snap a skyscraper. But this stranger saw something, just like the engagement guy did. If it weren’t for them, then I wouldn’t have even tried to sell pictures, get sponsored. I wouldn’t have believed I had something special to share.” I never knew her back then, when she was starting out, didn’t believe in herself or what she could accomplish. I had no idea. I hadn’t even heard of her name until my ex-girlfriend pointed out a picture she posted online.
“But you do have something special to share.” The photo was breathtaking; it was like I was there. Feeling the wind, the warm sunset goes down beyond the hills. I knew whoever who took the picture was feeling it too.
“But I do, baby.”
“Amazing, right place, right time.”
“I also tried a lot and got many no’s, then I got a yes. And I keep getting yes’s.”
“Because you are that good, girlfriend!” I clap my hands together.
“No, because I stopped taking no as an answer or an option.” Phoebe takes her camera and pulls off her shirt and shorts to cannonball splash right next to my face. Waves of water slap me in the beginning. The second she comes up, I am shoving handfuls of water her way.
I put out my arm and pull it hard toward her, and a wave of water covers her as she smiles, giggles as the water blinds her, and shakes her head to get away from it. But she can’t escape it; she can’t escape me.
I dive under the water, pick her up by her waist, and throw her to the other side of the pool.
“Enzo!” But she crashes back into the water, and I dive under the water again to find her, sitting at the bottom of the pool, waiting for me. Phoebe’s eyes are open, and her cheeks are puffed out, holding her breath. She curls her finger toward me, and I swim over. Our lips touch, and we exchange air pockets until we don’t have any left and have to resurface.
“I’m proud of you.” I wipe the wet hair out of her face.
“For holding my breath so long? Like it’s hard.” She splashes me.
“For being you, Pheebs. I’m just going for it, not knowing how it might end up, but saying, hey, I will give it my all. You hear that, world? I am proud of Phoebe Yoshioka! My girlfriend is the best photographer globally; none of those other bitches got anything on her!” I shout it out, yell it loud, and the girl I love can’t help but get shy with the compliments. “You hear that, baby? I think we might have a good echo coming?”
I put a hand up to her ear, and in the distance, it is the slight sound of my declaration rebounding back to us.
“I think you’re silly.”
“But also, kind of sexy, like you want me to take off my swim trunks so I can show you what it’s like to fuck in a pool with a man who loves you?” I tease the string on her bikini top lose, undoing it and watching it float away.
“I’ve already done that before.” With a serious face, but then it cracks. She is lucky I was distracted by her gorgeous tits, or I might be mad.
“You wound me, baby, making your man have a complex. Worrying about what man he has to compete with to erase.” Her toes go down to push down my swimsuit.
“Tell me again what it’s like to fuck a man in a pool who loves me?” She bites my bottom lip as I toss away the rest of her bikini bottoms.
“I have a better idea. Let me show you.” We clatter together, her legs go around my waist, and I walk over the edge to hold us up as I make good on the promise of those echoes.
Chapter 3
Phoebe
11.2634° N, 85.8640° W San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua
WhenIannouncedNicaraguaas my next destination, everyone on the Internet gave me their thoughts on why I should go to Costa Rica or Belize instead. But I was never one to follow where the crowds flock. San Juan del Sur is beautiful. Not just because of the tropical-colored water stretching itself over the sandy beaches. It held something an avid travel photographer like me always appreciates, natural beauty.
