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It only takes a few minutes for them to appear, one by one, and I start to flip through them. Photography has always been an outlet for me, a way to see the world from a different angle, and to tell a story through images instead of words. I have lots of pictures from the hike and images of the waterfall that turned out beautifully. Landscapes are great, but I prefer to take pictures of people.
The ones I took of Cash make me laugh because they conjure up memories of him complaining about the hike and his shoes getting wet. The smile on his face when the canyon opened up and the waterfall came into view is one of my favorites. The camera brings out his personality, the way he smiles, and his grey eyes seem brighter. Maybe it was the day, maybe it was me, but I can’t help but blush at the thought of him. The way he looks at me sometimes, makes me feel like I could catch on fire. It’s a heady thing to be looked at like that by someone, especially him. I have a feeling he hasn’t looked at many women in that way.
He had a wife.
Of course he had.
I didn’t want to invade his privacy, but it’s hard when he gives up so little of himself and I’ve given him everything. I can respect that he didn’t want to talk about it. Being so much younger than him, I don’t have the kind of history he does. I wonder who she was, and what happened to them. People grow apart, change, want different things, but I have to believe that if you love someone you are willing to do whatever it takes to keep them. Maybe I’m being naive.
My finger slowly hits the arrow key, and my stomach tightens at the photos that show up next. I had been putting off looking at them until now. Seeing myself laying across his bike with one of my breasts exposed, my nipple tight like the point of a pen, is surreal.
Heat spreads from my belly up my chest and into my neck as I scroll through them. My hair is tousled, falling around me and across the bike, my lips are swollen and parted, my eyes hooded. I am raw, real, uninhibited, and I can’t stop staring. I’ve never let anyone take photos of me like that before, but I trust him. The fact that he used my camera, knowing he wouldn’t have access to the photos unless I permitted him, is not lost on me. There’s a reason he did that. These pictures are only for my eyes.
I bite my fingernail and pull at my bottom lip, enraptured as I travel back to that moment. The feel of the bike beneath me, the weight of his stare upon me… I’m completely exposed, a moment captured in time where I am a woman, spellbound by the man who makes me feel beautiful and wanted.
This is how Cash sees me.
I have always been aware of how men look at me, their eyes traveling up my body as if I am something to obtain, to admire. Especially working in a bar, I had to deal with being leered at like I’m an object; even by Danny. When I first met him, I liked that my body turned him on, but he never really knew who I was. He had never met my grandparents and didn’t know where I came from. He was pretty to look at, the surface shinier than the interior. That’s all we were. I recognize that now.
These photos of me are art, and I like seeing myself through his eyes. The camera never lies.
You make me feel things I know I shouldn’t, he’d said to me.
31
IS HE WORTH IT?
SASHA
You Said Something by PJ Harvey
Istep out of the downtown office building and I can finally breathe. I’ve never been so nervous in my life. Even though I’d prepared for the last week and a half, it didn’t feel like enough. Erin’s editor, Sandy, was in the interview, but I also met their creative director and other editors from different sections of the magazine. It was intimidating to sit across from five other people, answering questions about my education and where I see myself in five years.
Pulling the strap of my bag higher up on my shoulder, I look both ways before crossing the street. Down the block is a cafe I head towards. I’m not used to wearing heels, but I thought it appropriate with a job interview, but now my feet hurt and the cafe looks more like a mile away than just a block.
It’s cute with a green canopy over the outside eating area. I don’t see Erin yet so I must have made it here first, which was a feat.
“I’m meeting someone, but I don’t think she’s here yet,” I tell the hostess.
It’s a small cafe with only a dozen tables.
“Do you want to sit inside or outside?” she asks.
It’s a beautiful day and I like to people watch just as much as Erin does, so I choose a spot in the shade outside.
This cafe reminds me of the one we ate at while we were on our road trip and stopped over in Flagstaff. I’m laughing to myself when Erin walks up behind me, leaning down to give me a hug.
“What were you laughing about?” she asks as she gets settled in her chair across from me, laying the strap of her bag over the back of it.
I hadn’t realized I was laughing out loud. Palming my face, I remember the haunted hotel and Erin claiming something grabbed her in the middle of the night.
Erin narrows her eyes at me before I have a chance to answer. “You’re thinking about the haunted hotel aren’t you?” she accuses, but I can’t lie so I just laugh and shake my head. “I was choked, Sasha,” she says seriously. “I was not exaggerating.” She places her forearms on the table as if to emphasize her point.
“I never said I didn’t believe you.” I continue to laugh.
The waitress interrupts us and Erin orders a drink while we figure out what to eat.
“I haven’t been able to eat all day so now I’m starving,” I look over the menu, my stomach grumbling.
