AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I catch him before he runs off. “Hey,” I say, wiping sleep grit from my eyes.
Dressed in his impeccably tailored business suit, he pauses at the door, acting as if he’s a teenager caught sneaking out. I suppose that’s accurate on some level, although I’m not his keeper, just his roommate and best friend.
Carl slowly turns and smiles. “What’s up, Dee?”
“I haven’t seen you at all in days,” I say as I sip some coffee.
He hesitates at the door. “Yeah…”
“So everything is going well with your new girlfriend?” I prod. I try to stay out of his sex life, but I need to know, since he has never acted this way before.
“I suppose,” he says hesitantly.
Crap. He usually argues with me when I use the wordgirlfriendto describe his sexual partners. This is serious… or more serious than anything else I ever knew about. Once again, I wish he felt that way about me.
“Do I get to meet her?” I ask casually.
“We’ll see how things go first.” Carl shrugs and then escapes out the door with, “See you later,” thrown over his shoulder.
I stare down into my coffee. I need to get away and clear my head.
Returning to my room, I check my emails and notice an inquiry for an engagement announcement photo shoot. I click on the email and discover it’s for a location about a half day’s drive away. The couple tells me how much they love my online portfolio and my artistic style and want to use my servicesfor their engagement photos, and based on that, possibly the wedding too.
The bride-to-be, Vivian writes, “I know it’s a last-minute request, but the photographer we booked last year just flaked out on us. When we began to search, I found your site and loved your work. I would have chosen you first if I had found you back then, so I’m hoping you are available for this weekend and are willing to come up. We will pay for your time and travel expenses, including the four-star hotel which is near the site.”
This could be a big gig for me—the break I need. I’m familiar with the location, Lovers’ Bluff. It has a beautiful view of the ocean, but I haven’t been there since I’ve been a professional photographer. I need to scope out the terrain and plan for some great shots. This whole opportunity is perfect. I can get away for the weekend and shake off my blues from Carl’s exciting new love life, and it sounds like this couple has money to burn, which means they likely have friends who do and might need a wedding photographer in the future.
I reply, “I would love to come up this weekend, and if you like my work on this shoot, I also happen to have availability on your wedding date.”
We exchange more information, and I get a confirmation of my booked room and a deposit in my account. Perfect.
I only have a day to prepare, so I charge my batteries, check all my gear, and pack it up. I research other photos of the area to get some inspiration, and then I text Carl.
Dee: I got a big gig! I’ll be gone through the weekend. I should be back late Monday night, probably around 8pm.
Carl: Good luck and have fun!
Now, I just have to drive off into the sunset and clear my head… and my heart.
2
LOVERS' BLUFF
The drive to the coast is relaxing, although the soundtrack about how pathetic my love life is could be less brutal. No matter what channel I find on the radio, it seems like the songs are all about broken hearts and unrequited love. Ugh. My personal playlist is no help. I forgot to put together something lighter for the ride, or at least without lyrics.
I even try the NPR channel, but they are discussing a book about unrequited love.
Really? Screw you, public radio.
I don’t want to hear any more on the topic, so I drive in blessed silence for the last hour or so.
It’s going to be hard enough for me to be around the loving couple who I have to photograph while they are being super lovey-dovey, but I know myself, and I’ll be able to pull myself together for them. I just need a brief break.
I love the idea of love, after all, but it doesn’t appear to be in the cards for me—or so it feels when the love of my life is probably falling in love with someone from his work.
The need to move out of his house climbs to the top of my to-do list, but I really do like my place even if Carl wants it toopristine and almost sterile. He has only become more OCD over the years, not less. I’ve justified his obsession with things being orderly because it could be worse. He could be a slob.
Unfortunately, I prefer a cozy, lived-in look for my home—clean but relaxed, like someone isn’t going to get their fingers cut off if they touch a glass surface and leave prints.
