7. Natalie
Natalie
In the new hotel room, I fashion a list of professional photographers in the Miami area and email them out to the clients whose shoots I canceled today.
I add a personal note to each one, apologizing again for putting them in this circumstance.
With every email, I send back their down payments.
I can only hope they don’t write a negative review about me for canceling.
Social media influencers can be either the sweetest people on the planet or the harshest, specifically when it comes to their photo sessions.
I’ve come to learn this the hard way as I’ve grown my business.
Lifting my camera from its brown leather bag, I turn it on, the weight of it in my hands bringing me back to my center. It’s grounding. The camera beeps as it awakens, and my mind floats back to the first time I held it.
I was with Luke, as I have been almost every day since I left my hometown.
Luke and I were newly married, and he had taken me along on a trip to visit a rental property he recently acquired.
It was a last-minute home he wanted to list as quickly as possible, and he hadn’t had time to find a real estate photographer.
I suggested he could take the photos himself, and we could spruce up the lighting using a photo-editing software.
But Luke doesn’t do anything halfway. When Luke has an idea, he goes for it with full force, headfirst, no matter what. It’s all or nothing. So he purchased a fancy Sony Alpha 6700 camera, dropping over a grand without really knowing how to use it.
The funny thing is, it was that stupidly random purchase that began my journey into photography.
“While we drive to the house, maybe you can figure that thing out for me,” he said as we drove the highways of Texas after our plane landed and we’d bought the camera. “Can you figure out how to attach the lens and set it up for indoor lighting, or whatever it is we have to do?”
I hummed in response, my lips twitching at the thought of seeing the world through a metal piece of machinery. As heavy as it was in my lap, it was delicate. I thought that any wrong move would break it, like a massive egg ready to crack from any jostle against my fingers.
Once we made it to the house, I climbed out of the rental car with the camera strap slung around my neck, holding tightly to the camera itself as an extra precaution.
Luke had bought everything it needed: a lens, battery, and carrying strap, but we’d forgotten a bag to hold it in.
I was terrified I’d drop it, walking around the property with it clutched to my chest like a baby.
The home had been slightly upgraded, cleaned, and professionally staged, and as I looked at the home through the lens, I took in the way the natural light from the windows shone over the countertops and washed the plain white walls in a warm glow.
I went from room to room, finding the beauty in a simple, empty house.
It wasn’t until roughly an hour after our arrival that I pulled the camera away from my face to see Luke staring at me, his lips pulled up into a playful smile.
“You gonna let me have a turn with that?” he asked, his legs crossed at the ankles as he leaned against the doorframe of the empty master bedroom.
I loved when he did that—when he looked irresistibly handsome without ever even trying.
I let my eyes roam up his body before smirking at him. “Nope. This is mine now.”
Before I knew what was happening, he was striding across the newly laid carpet.
He slid a hand under my hair, cupping the back of my neck where the camera strap lay, while the other grabbed my waist. He kissed me, and I noticed the way the light of the sun outside the window played behind my closed lids.
I kissed him back, the camera dangling in my hand beside my chest, still attached to the strap.
And ever since that day, I’ve been hooked on photography. And Luke was unintentionally the one who sparked my interest.
The photos of the property came out well for my first time holding a camera of that quality, and I’ve worked to hone my love of light and colors and angles ever since.
Back in the hotel room, my phone rings, and I absentmindedly answer without looking at the screen, still lost in my memories, pulled between the sun of the past and the clouds of the life I’m creating now.
“Hello?” I say, pinching the phone between my cheek and my ear, realizing too late that the ringtone was Luke’s.
“Natalie,” his deep, gravelly voice answers.
Heart pounding, I lower the camera against my leg, rubbing my thumb along the woven strap.
I don’t reply.
“I miss you,” Luke says. “I know you want space, and I told you I’d let you go.
But it’s not easy. I just—” His voice breaks off, and I can imagine him sitting on the end of our bed, elbows on his knees, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath.
“I couldn’t sleep last night. And I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. That you’re safe.”
I nod slowly. How much should I tell him? Should he know where I’m going?
“I’m safe,” I say, my voice a little shaky.
He exhales, his breath whooshing against the phone, making it crackle. I can feel his tornado of emotions shoved through the invisible line connecting his phone to mine.
“Good … Can you tell me where you’re going? Do you”—he pauses—“ have a plan?”
“I do. I’m going home.”
I tell him the truth because, really, what’s the harm in it? It’s not like he’s going to leave our huge house on the beach to follow me into the mountains. He didn’t seem to like Maple Lake that time he vacationed with his parents the summer we met.
“Oh, wow. Shoot, Natalie,” he says. “That’s a big step—that’s … huge. How do you feel about it? It’s been forever since you left. I’m sure you’re nervous.”
Nine years, to be exact.
“I’m feeling a lot of different things right now.
But it feels right—that’s all I know,” I reply.
Apart from all the possibilities where my family hates me and they run me out of town, going back is the right thing to do.
I owe it to my family to give them an explanation; they deserve an apology. I just hope it isn’t too late.
Again, silence ensues until I hear the sound of a pen clicking on the other end of the line—his nervous tell. He must be at the office, and suddenly my image of him in our room is replaced by the picture of him sitting behind his big wooden desk.
“I should get going,” I whisper. I wish he hadn’t called because it makes saying goodbye again that much harder.
“Natalie,” Luke cuts in. He doesn’t sound like himself, and I hate that I’m the cause of it. “Can I still call you? Or at least text you? I can’t handle not knowing if you’re okay or if you’re hurt. Can we just … Can we still try to be friends right now? I think—I don’t know—I think it would help.”
Hearing his voice is too much; it’s weakening my resolve.
One might ask why I’m running from a man I so clearly love and who clearly loves me, but life is messy and imperfect, and I’m still trying to figure out who I am.
I lost the Natalie I used to be somewhere along the way.
The one who thought of others before herself and smiled more than she cried.
The girl who didn’t have nightmares and didn’t drink herself to sleep.
Maybe I can find her again by going back to my family.
Maybe they’ll remind me of who I was when I was young, when I hadn’t even thought about babies yet.
Not that it would change my mind in any way, but maybe …
I don’t know. I just want something good to come out of this homecoming.
But one thing the old Natalie did was sever contact with her family when she left. I won’t do that again, no matter how hurt I am at the way Luke let me leave so easily or how angry I am that he won’t consider changing his mind on the biggest topic we’ve ever discussed.
“I don’t think calls would be the best decision,” I say softly, “but you can text me. If you’re worried about me, I’ll let you know how I’m doing.”
“Thank you.” He exhales. I understand the feeling. I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t comforted at the thought of keeping a connection open to my best friend.
“I have to go to bed now. I have a few more hours of driving tomorrow to get to Maple Lake.”
“Sure. Yeah.” His tone tells me he’s reluctant to hang up. “I’ll check on you tomorrow. To make sure you get there okay?” He says it as a question, asking me if that’s alright.
“Alright. That’s fine.”
Luke’s voice is more sure now. “I love you, Natalie. I always have, and I always will.”
I nod, wanting to say it back, but feeling like it’s wrong while I’m putting him through all of this.
“I know,” I say, my chin quivering.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Luke.”
I love you.