8. Ghosts Of The Past
Chapter eight
Ghosts Of The Past
Maggie
Sometime later, Karpathia’s voice startled me from my reverie.
“You look like you’re in another world.”
Nodding, I moved closer to the balcony railing. “Kar, there are absolutely no words. It’s a completely different experience up here.”
“Mmmm,” she hummed, her eyes still focused on her work. “Now that I’ve shown you the best view of mine, when do I get to see yours?”
I bit my lower lip. “Well, actually …”
“Wait, you do have something?” she asked, flashing her bright white teeth in a wide grin. “Have I finally been able to convince you to think of your own art?”
My confidence waned. “I mean, I haven’t edited them …”
She made gimme hands. “Show me.”
Glancing around, Easton was nowhere to be seen. Most of the other patrons were in groups too far away to see my screen. It seemed safe to show Karpathia. Surely, she wouldn’t laugh.
With a sigh, I pulled my phone from my bag and tapped a few buttons, opening the folder of my shots. Squeezing my eyes closed, I handed her the phone with a scared but resolute gesture. Karpathia took the phone from my hands, prying them off a little, then there was silence.
I held my breath for a few seconds until I let it out and opened one eye. “Kar? Do you hate them?”
When I opened the second eye, I saw her pressing her hand to her chest as her eyes teared up. “Where is this?”
She turned the phone to me to show me the barn photo, one I'd taken a few weeks before I left.
Anxiety balled up in my throat.
Swallowing hard, I whispered, “Buena Vista, where I grew up.”
“That is one of the most moving photos I’ve ever seen. Almost like those photos of old men and women in other countries. A life lived. Work done. And now this is what’s left.” She gazed at me with her assessing eye. “There’s so much true emotion in this. When did you take it?”
I tried to sound nonchalant. “About seven years ago.”
It was the hardest time of my life, preparing to leave Paul and the only home I knew. While my heart longed for the city, it didn’t make leaving the comfort of a small town any easier.
“And who was that dashing lad in the next photo?” she asked, turning the phone.
I closed my eyes, remembering just how he looked in that one. “Paul, an old friend from back home.”
With a raised brow, she beamed at me. “There’s something magical about the art you create in that town.
Even the way you’ve captured something in his eyes.
Something only you could see and brought out for others to notice.
Whatever you have in the small-town shots is missing from the city shots.
The city stuff is, um, what’s the word?”
“Predictable?” I suggested, cringing.
“Soulless,” she replied, grasping my arm as my legs threatened to buckle.
I gasped. “Kar? Are you trying to wound me?”
“There are thousands of pictures of buildings and monuments around here,” she explained.
“And many faceless people have taken them. Something like these, though? That is truly a gift. You need to get back to your roots and find that passion for photography you once had. Imagine with your maturity now what you could capture in that lens. When can you go back?”
I shook my head, lowering my gaze. “I can’t.”
Her frustration with me was evident as she ducked down to catch my eyes. “Why not? It’s clear you have so much emotion there that only you know how to find. It’s the perfect place to start to recapture that vision you’ve lost track of living in the commercial world.”
My eyes searched the sticky hardwood floors for answers. “My parents. Memories. Ghosts of my past. I can’t go back.”
Karpathia grasped my upper arms, forcing my eyes to meet hers again.
“You are so talented, cher. Your vision is one that should be shared with the world, the vision of small-town life just as it is. No filters. Just harsh realities. Maybe in confronting all of those past issues, you’ll find your future. ”
My heart rate skyrocketed. I held her arms and tried to take some deep breaths, listening to her soothing me. She understood, holding me steady until I could focus again as the tension receded.
“What was that?” I rasped.
She winced. “Probably panic from the way I forced you to face something you’ve been running from for years. Just thinking about it has your body tensing, doesn’t it?”
“I can’t go back,” I whispered. “I’m not being dramatic. I really can’t.”
She released my arms, gripping my hands instead.
“You don’t have to go. I just think it would be good for you to face whatever problem you had with your parents and see old friends.
How amazing would it be to show them who you are now and what you’ve become?
You don’t have to have a high school reunion.
Just have a nice visit. You’re owed vacation time, so take it for a change.
Life has a way of surprising you. This could take you to new heights in your career. ”
I reached out and gripped the railing just in case. “It won’t be anything like a vacation, Kar. I’ve been gone for seven years.”
She shrugged. “Get a room at a hotel. Make it seem as temporary as you want it to be. One day. Two tops. Make your peace with it, take some photos, and come back to the city. You can rent a car and get there in a day, right?”
My throat felt like it was closing, so I nodded again.
Easton found us. “Hey, you look pale. Are you okay?”
Karpathia offered a weak smile. “Just clearing away some debris of the mind, but I think she’ll be just fine.” Pressing her hand gently to my check, she smiled. “Call me if you need anything.”
I squeezed her hand, then let her return to her adoring fans.
“Have you eaten?” Easton asked, scrunching his nose. “I don’t want you to pass out on me.”
I shook my head no.
“Come on, let’s go.” He chuckled. “Enough art for one day. If that hillbilly place isn’t too crowded, maybe we could see if they have a decent burger.”
Irritation at Easton helped clear the remaining brain fog.
The Rooster Tavern was the place he was talking about, which was a country bar.
They had acts in for the weekends, and had fantastic food.
I’d eaten there a time or two over the years, and I was never sorry I had. Maybe there’d be a show tonight.