Chapter 20
twenty
PRESENT DAY
KATE
“What time is it?” Amantha pulls at the knitted scarf piled high around her neck. “I’m excited to finally meet Julia!” I watch the movement and try to figure out how many times her massive scarf wraps around her neck. It’s got to be well over ten feet long.
It’s Saturday morning, and we stand obstructing a portion of the sidewalk. A steady stream of irritated passersby give us side-eye as they skirt around us.
“It’s only a few minutes past nine,” I say. “Julia will be here any minute. Okay, I have to ask: how long is that scarf?”
Amantha puffs out a frigid laugh. “I know right? Mom made it for me for Christmas, and I think she lost track of the pattern. Or the concept of time itself. But I love it and I love her, so…” She shrugs, and the puddle of knitted scarf rises and falls.
I grin. “I should have placed an order with Susan when I came to Anthony’s basketball game last week.” My heavy cream overcoat does great at keeping my body warm but offers little protection for my face and neck. My sleek ponytail today was a bad idea tied in a cute orange ribbon.
“I’ll tell her.” Amantha bounces on her toes, trying to keep warm. “There was a great turnout at the scavenger hunt last night, don’t you think? A lot of guests left donations. That’s gotta make a dent in what the museum needs.”
“I hope so,” I say.
Amantha doesn’t know about Brandon goading me into acting like a complete fool, or about my subpar kiss with Tanner. I wish I could forget about both.
Amantha uses her creepy telepathy skills and shoots me a wry smile. “Tanner seemed nice.”
I nod, maybe a bit too hard. “Yes! He’s really great. It was fun.”
Amantha cocks her head. “Are you trying to convince me to buy this story? Or yourself?”
She chuckles, and I sigh. “Fine. The chemistry is sorta slow, but—”
“I’m here!” Julia’s red bob bounces through the swarm of people.
Amantha turns her entire body, clearly unwilling to disturb her knitted burrow. Julia breaks into an endearing smile as her long, graceful strides come to a stop. She’s wearing a knee-length white puffy coat, and her nose is tinged ballet pink.
“Sorry I’m late,” she pants. “My friend Hannah needed me to re-shoot a few items for Autumn & June’s website.” Julia timidly smiles at Amantha, who returns the smile above her pool of knitted yarn. “I promise I’m almost never late. Hope you don’t regret taking a chance on me.” Her smile slips.
Amantha coughs a laugh. “If being late means someone isn’t worth a shot, I’m so screwed.”
We all give a collective laugh, and Julia looks relieved, if not still a bit flustered.
“It’s so great to meet you,” Amantha says. “Thank you so much for helping us.”
“Same! Brandon’s told me so many great things about you.”
A shiver possesses my friend’s body. “Let’s get this ball rolling, shall we?”
We circle around to scan the mural towering above us. A mosaic of purples, blues, pinks, and greens serve as the backdrop for two massive hands that form a heart shape. The bell above the door tinkles every time a customer steps out of Patterson’s Market.
Amantha claps once. “I’ve already talked with Nico, the owner. He commissioned the piece, owns the copyright, and signed the reproduction agreement form. We’re all clear to display a photograph of it for the exhibition. Julia, do you need anything from me to start creating content?”
Julia’s dark blue eyes glitter. “Nope. Already got a pretty good idea about the direction I want to go. I did some recon on the museum’s marketing, and I think I’m gonna go for the same younger vibe that they used for Stirling’s soiree last year. It seemed really successful.”
Amantha nods. “It was! That’s exactly the demographic we’d like to target too. See, Julia? You’ve already got this.”
Julia laugh-honks, and Amantha’s eyes fly to mine. I grin back. I’m starting to realize that as classy and put together as Julia seems, she’s full of adorable quirks.
“Thanks, Amantha. That means a lot.” Julia pulls out her smartphone. I immediately notice that it’s one of the latest models, with multiple camera lenses on the back. “You guys just do your thing, and I’ll do mine.”
Amantha turns to me with finger guns. “It’s go-time, Kate!”
Chuckling, I unzip my camera bag and take out my DSLR, then study the lens options I packed. “For the vision I have for this mural, I’m going to need both of you to block people from walking into my shot. It should only take a few minutes, so hopefully we won’t make people too mad.”
Darting across the street to the opposite sidewalk, I fit my wide–angle lens to the body of my camera and toggle the aperture settings.
The weight of the camera in my hands feels like an extension of my body, settling into the grooves of my palms like it hasn’t been forever since I touched it.
Memories echo from each trace of my fingers, each dip and divot of its textured surface.
I decide to add “take more photos” to my extremely short New Year’s Resolutions list.
I duck an eye closer to my viewfinder. Since I’m photographing such a wide subject, I’ve got to make sure I get everything in frame.
A familiar shot of adrenaline floods my fingertips. The edges fit perfectly, the wintry sun lights my shot to perfection, and the bright blue sky in the background is a gorgeous backdrop for the heart-hand mural.
“This is freaking gorgeous, if I do say so myself,” I holler across the street. Amantha hops up and down, clapping her hands. Then again, she might just be trying to stay warm.
“Okay, people! Barricade away!” I say.
Amantha and Julia split, Amantha going left and Julia heading right.
They hold their arms wide with apologetic expressions, but a few passersby simply glare and walk around them.
After a moment, by the gracious odds of the universe, the traffic light stops the cars, and the sidewalk stays barren for exactly four seconds.
But that’s all I need.
“I got it!” I shout, doing my own version of a happy dance, twerking my booty then pumping my fists in the air.
A few car horns applaud me, and I can’t help but buckle over from laughter.
I pop up, clutching a stitch in my side with one hand, camera in the other, to find Julia’s phone recording me from the other side of the street.
I cross my eyes and stick out my tongue, but I can’t stop smiling.
Creativity clouds my vision, and suddenly everything becomes more beautiful.
Yellow taxis glow like sun-soaked daffodils.
I snap another photo. The flow of pedestrians around me is a river of diversity.
A woman’s wrinkled smile beneath a black hijab, the chubby skin of a baby’s cheek, a neon-green mohawk.
Before I know it, my camera beeps, letting me know my SD card is filled.
I glance at Julia and Amantha, but they’re gone, and I don’t know how much time has passed. Digging through my purse, I check my phone and see a new group text.
AMANTHA: I LOVE photographer Kate. She’s a way better dancer than regular Kate!
JULIA: You looked like you were having fun, but we were freezing. We’re getting to know each other inside the cafe down the street if you wanna join us!
I smile. A lazy Saturday morning sounds incredible. I can picture the three of us, chatting, laughing, and ingesting way too many carbs.
But the weight of my camera and lightness in my chest feels more important right now. I haven’t felt this much like myself in a long while, and I choose to savor the moment in solitude.
KATE: Drink an extra cup for me! I’m on a creative high and want to take the long way home.
So, I do. After switching out my SD card for a fresh one full of possibilities, I ignore the numbness in my nose and stroll the long way back to the condo.
It takes me an hour to finally make it back to the Waterborough Community gates. After dropping off a bag of bagels and shmear to Mrs. Kovolchuk, I walk inside to my empty apartment. Liza’s car is gone, and my shoulders fall a bit.
It would have been fun to have one of our epic Saturday nights together, but her residency at the hospital takes up so much of her energy that I don’t blame her for wanting to spend time with Cam. If I were in love, I’d want that too.
My phone vibrates with a text.
UNKNOWN: You looked gorgeous today taking pictures. Hope they turn out well! –Hopefully Yours.
Sweat beads across my hairline as my thoughts pick up speed. Hopefully Yours saw me today. He, or she, might have followed me, even.
A shudder knocks my heart into an uneven rhythm. I bolt to the door to check its lock before peering out the curtains. Dusk is falling, tingeing the blue sky shades of violet and rose. Mounds of snow raise craggy shadows.
The cobblestone street is almost empty, save for a few cars and a couple walking a shaggy dog. I can see the sealed community gates from here. A trembling breath eases my tight chest a fraction. Although it feels excessive, I return to my camera bag and fish out my pepper spray.
My eyes snag on the DSLR camera nestled inside the bag. Instead of affection for my favorite hobby, borderline fear washes over me. How dare H.Y. taint the pictures I took today.
My head snaps up.
What if I accidentally caught H.Y. in one of them?
I claw my camera bag open, dispel my SD card from the camera body, and slide the card into my laptop. I drum my fingers along my dining table, waiting for it to load.
Rows of icons splay before me, each square possible evidence. I dismiss photo after photo until I falter on the very last one. Beneath the bare cherry blossom branches foregrounding an azure sky, something catches my eye.
A shadow punctuates the line of trees from behind one of the trunks. I strike my keyboard to magnify the image. The silhouette of a human stretches in an eerie expanse, somewhat traversed by the tree’s shadow. I can just make out the curve of a neck between the head and shoulders.
Unless an unidentifiable stranger decided to play hide and seek, there’s no feasible reason for anyone to stand that close to a tree.
Vague suspicion solidifies into a boulder that drops into my stomach.
I clamp a hand over my mouth.
I think I’m being stalked.