friendly and easy to work with. I probably have more perfect shots with them than any family I’ve photographed yet.
"Coffee's ready," I quietly say to get Zack's attention.
"Wonderful. Thanks, Nic." He takes his coffee mug from the tray and I sit down on the couch facing him.
“These pictures are incredible.”
“Thanks. That family was easy to photograph.”
He holds up a photo and shows it to me with a slight grin. It is one of my favorites and needed almost no editing. The little girl’s mom had just taken her hand and they were getting ready to stand up and start walking away from me over an old wooden bridge towards the sunset. The dad is standing just off to the side, facing them. The lighting was perfect, and in the moment where the mom reached for her daughter’s hand, I caught the look. You can practically see sparkles coming from both mother and daughter’s eyes. And in the background, the dad is smiling down on both of them with a look of utter admiration and love. It’s the exact shot I try to get with all my clients. It’s the real affection a family has when they see one another.
“This is it.” I appreciate instantly that Zack sees what I see. “It’s absolutely mesmerizing; the way this girl looks at her mom. You’re incredibly talented.”
“I think in this case it was all due to the family, but thank you.” I sit quietly, drinking my coffee while Zack finishes flipping through the rest of the photos.
Eventually, he looks up at the bookshelves lining my wall and nods toward the pictures. "Is that your family?"
Without waiting for my answer he walks toward a bookshelf filled with photos. Some are of Mia and me in college, and my parents and me growing up. But most are of with Mark and Andrew. I tense as he scans them all wondering what he’ll ask.
I feel heat on my neck and cheeks when he picks one up and turns to me. It’s a photograph of me as a young pre-teen girl, complete with glasses and braces. I look hideous and the only reason I have the photo showing is because it was the last time I saw my grandma before she died of cancer. He bites his lip to contain his laugh but a sound escapes sounding much like a hiccup.
“Is this you?”
“Spare me,” I say, while laughing at his horrified expression. But his eyes are sparkling and I’m starting to really like it when he looks at me like this. “Tell me you never went through an awkward phase.”
He sets the picture down and turns to me. His eyes are full of mischief. “I am a rock star. There is no such thing as an awkward phase for guys as cool as me.”
I roll my eyes and smile. He’s lying. I can totally see it in his eyes, but I let it go when he turns back to the photos because I know he’s soon going to ask me about the ones with Mark and Andrew. I can practically hear the Jeopardy theme song counting down as it nears the time to decide what to tell him. I feel safe with him, but can I trust him? Does it matter anyway?
“I take it these are your parents?”
"Yes, they’re pretty great.” I smile tightly and wipe my sweaty hands down the sides of my thighs. And it’s like he can sense my sudden tension, because he just picks up a picture and brings it over to me; sitting just far enough on the couch to give me space, but it still feels a little bit intimate. I’m not sure how I feel about being so close to him with that picture in his hands. It’s as if he knows – that this one photo is the reason why I’m such a huge mess. I wipe my hands and blink quickly several times unable to take my eyes off of it.
“Who is this?” He sets the picture down in between us and leans forward a little bit to face me.
We sit in silence for who knows how long while I stare at the photo in between us. I know it’s awkward, but I’m internally debating how much to tell, when to tell, how to even begin to tell him what happened. And he’s just watching me, patiently waiting. I admire it beyond belief that he would give me the time and space I need to either speak or