Page 33 of Colors and Curves
She shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m just amazed at the number of cameras on your desk… and the wall-to-wall photos.”
“I was cleaning lenses earlier today. It’s my favorite hobby when my mind is somewhere else. This room is my hall of fame. I prefer to display these in one place, not hanging everywhere.”
She walks along one wall of photographs. I can’t believe she’s here right now.
“Oh, I love this one,” she gushes and steps closer to the photo. “I don’t want to know how you got a body—or is that hair?—to look like a tree.”
I step into the room and turn around. “I tried to replicate this.”
“Omigosh! Wow, that’s gorgeous!” She walks up behind me and stops. Silence. Just when I can’t take it a single second longer, her soft finger outlines the branches of the black tree tattoo that covers my entire back. “Mmm, I thought I saw a splash of ink near your upper shoulder, maybe your neck, the first day we met. This is so amazing. Does it have a special meaning?”
I glance over my shoulder at her. “It does, but you’ll think it’s stupid.”
“Try me.”
“The tree of life. Some believe it represents new beginnings, bright futures, positivity. When we moved to New York City, Daisy and me, our entire world became better. We finally had a future to look forward to. Sure, my past was weighing me down, but somehow, I knew I was going to do whatever it took to be a successful photographer. I was just a teenager, but I knew, regardless of my issues, I’d get there.”
Her finger stops on one spot. I know exactly what it is. “Why is there a broken branch?”
“Some say a broken branch is the death of a relationship. That one has a double meaning for me. Maybe one day I’ll tell you about it.” I turn around to find her eyes pleading with me to share something—anything—more about my past.
Then she reaches out to touch my arm. “Just know, if you do ever want to confide in me, I’ll never tell another soul.”
I cup her soft cheeks with my hands and gently kiss her lips. She places one of her hands over mine. “I promise,” she murmurs, holding my gaze so the truth sinks in.
“Thank you.” I let my forehead rest against hers. “That means more than you can know.”
Squeak.Chance interrupts us as he walks into the office, and we split apart. Skylar pats his side. I gently remind him that he’s not allowed in my office. There are simply too many things he could damage. He goes back out and plops down on the hallway floor in front of the office, squeaking away.
“So… do you use the same tattoo artist as Daisy?” She’s behind me again. “This tree is a work of art. The detail that went into it is terrific. How long did it take to complete it?”
“Almost two years.”
“Wow. That’s crazy,” she comments, walking around me, then continues to check out the rest of the pictures. “Why is this camera in a display case? It looks pretty beat up.” She leans over the case to see it better.
“That’s my very first camera. My mom gave it to me when I turned thirteen.”
Skylar turns around and folds her hands in front of her, giving me her full attention as always.
“She spent most of her tip money to buy that for me. It was the most expensive gift I’d ever received. I asked her why she gave me a camera of all things; I hadn’t asked for one and I wasn’t even sure I could use it with my eyesight. She said it was good for black and white photos, and she wanted a glimpse of how I see the world. When things got rough at home, she’d tell me and Daisy to go outside and take pictures, to go get lost in another world for a little while. That camera changed my life, maybe even saved me.” I walk over to the case and point to a picture hanging on the wall above it. Skylar turns around and stands next to me. “See this picture of a butterfly?”
“It’s color,” she says, surprise in her voice. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice it right away.”
“It’s one of the first photos I took. My first roll of film was color. After that, she bought me black and white film. This is the only color photo I kept. I took it for my mom. I told you how she loved butterflies. She had it developed and framed. Somehow, it’s survived all these years.”
Skylar glances at me and strokes my arm with her soft hand. “Thank you for telling me these things about you. It helps me understand you a bit more, but it also makes me more curious. That’s not fair.” The mood gets lighter in the room.
“Come on. Let’s finish the tour of this place.” We go out to the hallway, and I lead her to my studio.
She steps in and looks around. “This is great! Another huge room. No wonder you use it for a studio. Look at all the lights, tripods, and other gadgets. Great sheepskin rug. I’ve never seen one so big.” She kneels down and brushes her hand over it. “It’s so soft,” she gushes. A funny expression crosses her face and she suddenly pulls her hand away. “But… I don’t want to know how many naked women have been on there. Or in this room, as a matter of fact.”
“Actually, no one has. It’s brand new. I just got it and wanted to air it out. I’m hoping to use it for my next project, if it ever materializes.”
“Good answer.” She stands back up and wanders through the room, careful not to touch anything. Other than equipment, there isn’t much to see here.
I remain by the door and lean against the frame. When she’s finished looking around, she walks toward me. We stare at each other in silence for a long moment. The room becomes increasingly warm.
“Tell me why you’re here, Sky.”