Chapter 32
32
Lucy
Countdown to zero hour has officially begun. It’s the last week of my internship. A bit of a turning point, not just work wise but life wise. After this week, I’ll be heading to Honolulu for Nat and Hayden’s wedding. And after that, I’ll be saying goodbye to Dexter and going back home, making good on our agreement that we’ll go on with our lives. I’ve been ignoring the niggling, gnawing realization of what life will be like after this. Will it be drab, maybe a little monotonous and depressing? Or will I slide back into the life I had before I moved out here without a second thought? The latter felt practically laughable. How could I forget about my life here with Dexter as if we haven’t grown too comfortable with each other?
Today, I haven’t really had a second to think about this. I’ve thrown myself into work with the last days ahead of us. I’ve been grouped with Ajay and Min Jun to work with Ivy where she’s overlooking a portion of the men’s line and the final pieces sent over by the brand .
“Seb!” Ivy calls as Seb finishes with the makeup department. He sits up straighter in the director’s chair he’s sitting in and looks at Ivy. “I need you in about five minutes,” she informs him. “We’re about finished with the rest of the lighting.” Seb gives a quick thumbs-up and turns to the makeup artist swiping a big, fluffy makeup brush over his forehead.
I move about the set, positioning the faded barstool under the lights to make sure it sits at the right angle. “Ivy,” I call as Ivy stands behind a nearby folding table, hovering over a tablet with a stern look of focus on her face while her fingers swipe across the screen. “I’m just going to grab the fan and once we set it there, we should be good to go,” I inform her as I point to the far right corner of the backdrop.
“Great,” Ivy answers. She sets the tablet down on the table and walks toward me. “Kyle’s pretty tied up right now. I was thinking you could run the shoot with Seb.”
I pause brushing off a layer of dust off the barstool. “What?”
“You and Seb have a pretty decent rapport,” she says, her voice calm and confident. “I think we’d get some pretty good shots if we have you shoot him.”
She wants me to run this shoot?
“Ivy,” I say, my voice pleading. “Will Kyle be okay with that? I mean, I don’t know if I’m ready to take on that much responsibility.” I feel a queasy tumble roll through my stomach, and my hands start to sweat. I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I should do this.
“I agree, it is a lot. But I want to try this approach,” she says. “I saw the pictures you took for the streetwear looks with Seb. You did a good job.”
I hesitate and bite my lip. This is an amazing opportunity, and I’m completely taken aback she’d even consider me, but I’m not as confident as I should be taking on an entire shoot.
“You don’t think I should just watch Kyle? Or maybe just wait for him until he can give me more direction? ”
Ivy offers a reassuring smile. “Try it,” she instructs. “I’ll be here to guide you. If things don’t feel right, which I can’t imagine it will,” she adds, “we’ll have Kyle take over.”
Seb saunters over from the makeup chair and slips into a bright fuchsia blazer. He perches himself on the stool, and Ajay hovers over him with the light meter, moving the device around him like she’s scanning him with a metal detector. Seb flashes a smile at me and runs his hands over the front lapels of his blazer.
“You already know what to do,” Ivy says calmly. “Just work your magic and make that handsome man more handsome than he already is.”
I huff a nervous laugh. “I thought we were taking pictures of clothes here.”
“That too.” Ivy laughs and nods her head to my camera bag sitting on the folding table. “Now, come on. Before all that foundation melts off of his cheekbones.”
“Don’t forget to pack a bathing suit,” Nat calls through the phone I have set on speaker. “And some sneakers too. In case we do something outdoorsy.”
“Check and check.” I pause, wrapping up the straps to my new neon pink bikini and tucking it into the corner of my suitcase. I’m ticking off my mental checklist, waving a finger over the must-have items already packed. The green bridesmaids dress that looks absolutely stunning on me with the satin material and curve hugging fit, black strappy sandals, a tropical dress for a luau, the laciest lingerie I have on hand. You know, in case…
“What time is your flight?” I ask, removing my thoughts from the “in case” sweeping through my preoccupied mind .
“Six a.m.” she answers. “And we’ll arrive close to noon, Honolulu time.”
“Ugh, that’s so early.”
She groans. “I know. Which means we’ll probably have dinner in about an hour, and we’ll call it a night.”
I look at the clock. “Nat, it’s four.”
“And that makes us senior citizens.”
I laugh. “Not even husband and wife yet and acting like an old married couple.”
Nat laughs too. “You’ll be there on Wednesday?”
“Yep.”
It’s Saturday now. The last day of my internship was yesterday, and a group of us interns are heading out for the night to celebrate. While I have some free time this morning, I’m opting for overly prepared instead of last-minute procrastination by packing for Hawaii. I keep telling myself the reason I’m staying busy has nothing to do with the aching notion of having to say goodbye to this place, but I know deep down, it is. I hoped packing would help keep those thoughts at a safe distance, somewhere I can easily ignore them, but it’s actually causing the opposite effect. Because now the closet that once hung all of my clothes looks nearly bare with mostly empty hangers. And my suitcase that was shoved into the corner sits open on the floor once again, much like when I first got here, and it’s too much. The reminder that all of this signifies my expiration date inside Dexter’s spare bedroom. Which also means no more Thai food, no more Supernatural marathons, no more coupley things. No more Dexter.
“Dexter’s coming that day too,” Nat announces, and it startles me a little bit, the mention of Dexter’s name from my sister’s lips. Almost like I just got caught red-handed.
“Oh,” I say, hoping I sound indifferent about a piece of information I already know. I push a foot against the cardboard box with my address back home written in thick black ink across the top, ready to be hauled to the nearest FedEx. Another reminder that my time here is coming to an end.
“Yeah. I think Carmen’s getting there on Tuesday. She just has to wait for David to get off work,” she explains, referring to Carmen’s boyfriend of nearly six years. “And a bunch of other people should be there the day before or the day of the wedding.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Maybe we can spend one of the nights in our room,” she randomly suggests. “Just eat junk food and watch Bridesmaids and La La Land . I miss doing that with you and Carmen.”
“Nat.” The lingering guilt from the lies I’ve been telling her, either by omission or avoidance, feels like it’s all ready to spill out of me. A part of me feels like maybe I can finally tell her. With the past few months behind me, maybe she’d understand now, knowing how hard I worked and how much praise I’ve received from my superiors.
“Hmm?” she hums, sounding distracted.
“I…” I pause. “I, um…” The words don’t come out. I don’t know how to tell her I’ve been living in the same city as her, playing house with her future husband’s best man while working at the exact internship she and my mom agreed I shouldn’t apply to. That I’ve been falling for Dexter, hard. Enough for me to occasionally rethink going back home and play imaginary scenarios where I stay in Brooklyn. And I realize it’s another goddamn lie . While I lied about one lie, I created a new one. One involving her and her future husband and their inner circle. Why do I keep doing this? The guilt starts to make my heart crumple into a tight ball, and all it does is force the truth down. “I can’t wait to see you.”
She squeals. “I can’t believe that in one week, I’m going to be a married woman!”
I can’t help the creeping grin on my face. “Mrs. Natalia Marshall.” I sigh. “Who woulda thought. ”
We both dissolve into giggles.
Just then, I see Dexter round the corner, and his face softens into a gentle smile when he sees me.
“I’ll see you soon, Nat,” I say, my eyes on Dexter. He watches me, leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb with his arms crossed, and I look up at him from the floor.
“Yep,” Nat answers. “See you in a few days!”
I hang up and toss my phone on the floor at the same time Dexter walks across the room and sinks into one of the few empty spots next to me.
“Packing?” he asks, gesturing toward the suitcase, the half-filled box, and the scattering of items ready to be stowed away, all a symbolic answer to his almost rhetorical question.
I nod. “Thought I would start now while I had some free time.” He nods too, mirroring the morose up and down motion of my head. “Do…you need to pack too?” I ask, hoping to steer away from the jarring reality of me going home.
He nods again. “But I can do that later in the week,” he says with a sad smile.
I finish stuffing away a stack of clothing into my suitcase. “Oh,” I exclaim. “I almost forgot.” I stand from the floor and retrieve Dexter’s laptop from my bedside. I start it up, sidling up back next to him with the screen pointed in his direction. “I touched up the pictures from the gallery show.”
“Oh,” he says softly. He readjusts himself when I lean into his shoulder and makes room for me in the crook of his arm. We settle ourselves as I pull open the files.
“I need Janet’s email to send them to her,” I say, scanning through the pictures of Avery and Janet surrounded by the crowd at the show. I stop at a few images of Dexter and Janet, the ones I took of them from afar. They’re laughing and talking, looking as if they don’t have a care in the world. “These are a few of you and Janet I got. ”
Dexter takes the laptop from my hands, and his eyes are glued to the screen. I notice a small furrow fissure between his brow, and his lips form a straight line. “She looks just like my mom,” he says softly.
“Oh,” I whisper.
“I never noticed it before, but when she smiles like that…She has my mom’s smile.”
I don’t know what to say. Do I apologize for unknowingly dredging up the memory of his mom? For reminding him his parents never had the chance to watch him and Janet grow up? Or do I console him? Remind him that while he doesn’t have his parents, he still has Janet. But given Janet’s current state, even that feels wrong. So I just sit there, watching him scroll through the pictures. He clicks along, going back and forth between images as if he’s trying to memorize them. Every shadow and light, every pop of color or contrasting gray and white area. Like he wants to remember Janet like how she is in the pictures, happy and healthy looking. Without all of the obvious depictions of her illness, like the barely remaining hair on her scalp hidden underneath the hair prosthetic she wore, or the layers of makeup carefully applied to disguise the gaunt tones of her skin.
“Thank you,” he finally says, tearing his eyes away from the screen to look at me. “Seriously, Lucy. Thank you for taking these. You don’t know what this means to me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I meant it when I said you have something special here,” he adds.
I blush a little, too uncomfortable with praise and recognition. “I’m heading out around nine,” I say, changing the subject and gently laying the laptop on the bed. “I’m grabbing some drinks with some other interns and a few other people from work.”
“Oh,” he answers, a little deflated.
“Did you want to come?”
“You sure? You don’t want to mingle with your crowd alone? ”
I shake my head. “Keep me company,” I urge.
He smirks.
“Is that too clingy?”
He shakes his head. “You could be sewed to my side, and you wouldn’t be clingy.”