Feels Like Falling - Kristy Woodson Harvey Page 0,44
didn’t have too much stuff to unload, just the duffel bags I’d filled when I fled Harry’s house. I sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling tired even though I’d slept nine hours the night before and woken up to a view of the water.
I got up and dumped out the first bag of my stuff on the bed. That’s when I saw it. I’d wanted to get rid of it when things went down the way they did, but letting go of that locket was like letting go of the last piece of the life and the man that I thought I’d won for myself. I sat down again and rubbed the golden edges with my thumb. I didn’t want to, but I had to. I opened that locket and stared at a picture of me, young and pretty, hair blowing in the wind, resting my head on Frank’s shoulder. I wished I could see his whole face straight-on, but you couldn’t because he was kissing my head. And, oh, that smile on my face… Well, I can tell you I’ve never felt that happy since. That’s the God’s honest truth.
Most of the time I was strong and brave, so when Frank popped up in my mind, I pushed him away. But today? Today I had a little bit of time. I could drink a cup of coffee and unpack my things—and my thoughts about Frank. Since it was my day, I didn’t have to think about how it ended between us. I didn’t have to break my own heart remembering what might have been. Instead, I could just focus on how good it was when we were together, how happy we were and how in love.
“You couldn’t be more beautiful, Diana,” Frank had said. “I swear it with everything I have, you couldn’t be.”
We were sitting in the sand on an early spring day in 1998, one of those days when it’s warm enough to get outside in the fresh air and sunshine—but tomorrow there might be a blizzard. I was wearing my new jean shorts that my friend Robin swore made my butt look like Cindy Crawford’s, and Frank had just got a brand-new camera. It was a fancy one, with an automatic timer and all that.
“I have to photograph you, Diana. Please will you let me? I know you hate it, but please?”
See, I hadn’t realized yet that, through the lens of someone who loves you, you can’t help but look your most radiant. It’s like the camera picks up on the energy of the person, and it starts to see you as beautiful as they do. It’s magic, really.
“Oh, Frank,” I had said, giggling. “Why on earth would you want to take a picture of me?”
Frank had wanted to be a photographer back then. He thought he was going to make his living capturing dolphins jumping in the water and waves crashing on the shore and the way a rose looks when it’s about to bloom. Oh my goodness, I had thought he was the smartest, most artistic, most talented man in the whole entire universe. Frank saw the world through a different lens than I did, literally and figuratively. He had grown up in a stable, loving family. He’d never worried about where he would sleep or when he would eat next. He was free-spirited in a way that I knew I never could be, that my past simply couldn’t allow. But I loved living vicariously through him, feeling how he felt even for just a moment.
He had jumped up, that camera in his hand, and before I could even argue he was snapping away. I smiled and laughed and danced for the camera, but really for Frank, dipping my toes in the water and blowing him kisses. I don’t know that I’ve ever been so carefree, before or since.
“The light is perfect,” he was saying. “See how the sun is just beginning to set? It casts this gorgeous glow.”
“No, you are perfect,” I had said to him. To say I meant that with all my heart is an understatement. “Okay. Now let me get some of you.”
Frank looked at me like maybe I was a little bit crazy, which, back then, I sort of was—especially about him.
“Look,” he said, “I’m going to set the timer so we can get one together.” When Frank did something, anything at all, he did it with his whole heart. His eagerness to learn everything about