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I force myself to focus on working and building a life for myself, which leaves little leisure time to make, let alone maintain, relationships. Platonic or otherwise. I dated on and off in college, even though I tried to ignore everyone within a thirty-mile radius with a male chromosome. I failed. That regret weighs heavily.
Don’t we all have those people in our lives, though? The ones we wish we had ignored.
Hadn’t kissed that one time that led to hundreds more lip-locked sessions.
The ones we dread running into randomly on the street in ten years, only to pretend we never saw each other naked.
The ones we whispered our secrets to between the sheets for them to betray our trust and leave us in the end.
We all have those people, and they are the worst.
I find the horoscope page and cringe at the fact I am curious about what it says. This is an issue published months ago, Carter. It can’t be relevant. Don’t even bother, I try to convince myself. My curiosity overpowers and I am searching the column to see what Aries is telling me to do.
Let your artistic nature loose today, Aries. Add a touch of creativity to whatever project, situation, or person you encounter. Extend your fantasy world to every aspect of your being and keep an open mind for new ideas and methods. Incorporate traditional values into new concepts. The new and the old methods may seem incompatible at first, but it’s your challenge to make them work together.
Crap, it is relevant. It was supposed to make no sense and have no bearing on the events happening in my life. It’s as if reading this has jumpstarted my career goals even more. I need to find a way to let me do more on set. I know he won’t want to hear it, that I am just his coffee fetcher, but what if he takes this seriously? What if this lets me prove I am more than an assistant or second shooter? What if Ovis sees the potential? ring out of me right now. I can’t waste any more time and I can’t ignore the inspiration pouring out of me right now.
Iwakeupthenext morning still camped on the couch, my body too exhausted to make it into bed. My clock threatens me with the time, 8:14 am. I am surprised I slept so well with the creativity buzzing around in my head, begging to be set free.
The leggings get to stay since all I did was sleep in them. I change out of my loose-fitting tank top, add a bra, and snatch my backpack still packed with my camera.
The sun is hanging low in the sky, still waking up the town. I venture to Harbor Park around the corner and down two blocks. The usual clumps of people soaking up the outdoors on Saturday morning are missing, leaving downtown quiet. The bricks have stories to tell but none of us can hear them.
I place my backpack on an empty bench, pulling out my camera ready to capture the world around me. Nature is easy to photograph, never needing to change its pose or facial expression. You bend to nature to capture its best angles, not the other way around.
I swing my now limp backpack onto my back and continue to view the world through my lens. The water, the trees, the way the sunlight dances through the leaves. As I am ducked behind a large tree trying to get a better look at a nest on the branch above, I hear a familiar voice carrying on the wind.
It's a challenge to not seem creepy when I am already hidden behind a tree trunk, but I do my best to poke my head around without it seeming awkward. BK sits on a nearby bench that was vacant when I got here. An older gentleman sits opposite him, grey hair and weathered skin revealing his age.
There's no way I can escape this park without walking past them or jumping over a wall. I turn away from them, focusing on the bay instead of the trees. Boats float idly with the subtle waves, their sails pulled and tied tight like the braids in my hair.
My lens stays focused on the water but my mind keeps venturing back to the beanie-wearing brunette on the bench. Who is he with? I couldn't see his face. My eye is against the viewfinder as I hear voices approaching.
"Excuse me, sorry, I think this might be yours. I found it on the path over there and know these go missing almost as much as socks," the aged man says with a smile. The motion makes his cheeks wrinkle more, his eyes softening in the process.
"Oh, thank you so much! It must have fallen out of my pocket or something," I say, returning the smile. As my hand touches his, I notice BK walking toward us. Oh crap.
He recognizes me, I can tell by the disappointment in his eyebrows that happen to be peeking out of his beanie. I wonder if he knows that scowl will require Botox to undo someday. Even though I can tell he isn't excited to see me outside of work, I keep the grin on my face as a white flag.
"Hey BK, such a nice day right? It's great to have some good weather when we aren't stuck at the set," I attempt pleasantries. The man with him gives a knowing look as if to ask who the heck I am. BK doesn't reply, clearly not getting the subliminal message of being decent to people you know in public.
"I guess he isn't going to introduce me, I'm Patrick. Who might you be?"
Patrick! No, there's no way this isthePatrick McLellan. He won the 35 Award twice in a row. I can't believe I didn't recognize him but it has been years since he was in the business. I struggle to pull my jaw from the sidewalk it's now resting on. A legend that I couldn't imagine meeting and here he is, chatting up BK in the park like it's nothing.
The look on Patrick's face tells me it has been a while since someone freaked out over meeting him so I work to reign it in.
"I'm honored to meet you, sir. I have been a fan since I learned how to adjust the aperture," I toss in some camera humor to see if I can turn his smile into a laugh. It works and I can feel the tension break from my shoulders.
"The honor is all mine. You're shooting with one of my favorite models. Have you had it long?"
Patrick continues talking with me even though BK is visibly in pain from the interaction. I'm still trying to decide if I love seeing him tortured from the inside out and that the only one who can't stand me is him. Patrick probably has no clue that BK and I butt heads for a living, but that doesn't matter at the moment. I am talking to a legend and I won't let BK wreck this for me.
"Do you have any recommended settings for outdoor subjects? I can't seem to get the highlight and contrast to balance right and I hate having to spend hours editing. Taking the best picture first is the goal," I pose the question to Patrick, desperate to keep the interaction going.
We talk for a few more minutes, Patrick answering the questions I have, and BK standing with his arms crossed silently. I haven't seen him speechless before, but it's a good look for him.
Mostpeoplewelcometheweekends for a break from their monotonous work life. I hate them. Left to my own devices, I tend to get nothing accomplished. Living alone does bring the added bonus of not having to deal with anyone else when I am home. Giving me the freedom to scroll on Instagram as much as I want or add a stupid amount of things to my shopping cart that I will never buy.
