CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
RHETT
Month Seven
Nora photographs me against a blank wall.
No suit. No jersey. Black T-shirt, jeans, bare feet because she says shoes make me stand like a sponsor owns the floor.
"Do not pose," she says.
"I don't know what that means."
"Exactly."
She lowers the camera. "Tell me something true."
"I am nervous."
Click.
"Again."
"I like your apartment more than I expected."
Click.
"Again."
"I am afraid if I become comfortable, I will stop changing."
The camera lowers.
"Do you think change requires fear?" she asks.
"It used to."
"What could sustain it instead?"
I look at her.
"Values. Practice. You telling me when I fail without becoming responsible for fixing me. Me telling you when I need something without making it a demand."
Click.
She looks at the screen and becomes very still.
"That one," she says.
I join her. The portrait is not flattering in the commercial sense. My face is open, almost uncertain. No captain's jaw. No controlled stare.
"I look tired."
"You look present."
We order lunch and eat on the studio floor. She shows me layouts for the book. My photograph will appear only in acknowledgments beside a short essay about the foundation.
"Are you comfortable being included?" she asks.
"Yes. Are you comfortable with readers connecting the project to our story?"
"They will anyway. I want the connection framed by my choice, not discovered like a secret."
"Then yes."
Before I leave, she hands me a key.
Her apartment key.
I stare at it.
"Emergency access," she says. "And planned visits. Not unannounced entry."
"Understood."
"This is not a step toward moving in."
"Understood."
"You may look happier."
I do.