Come What May

3. focus

CHAPTER THREE

FOCUS

—

• saturday, march 6th •

When the morning comes, it's almost as if everything that took place last night didn't happen.

My sadness over the impermanence of my stay here, my tears over never having a place that's made for me specifically, the reality of me finally being in the same place as my parents for more than two weeks— some of the things that made me stay awake until one in the morning with Radhika.

None of that matters now though, not when the blood that's flowing through me jolts my writhing body awake, not when I'm buzzing, vibrating at the thought of my first shoot here.

As if my excitement couldn't get any more intense, the city is exceptionally pretty, maybe sunrises are prettier here than they are in New York, or maybe I'm glorifying everything all over again, but the blues and purples of the sky that blankets the buildings that blend into it feel like something to be excited about.

Last night, Radhika had mentioned that maybe, I shouldn't be glorifying this place so much. That maybe, if I treated it like any other place, I wouldn't be let down when nothing good comes out of it.

I understood, and I still understand where she was coming from. She's always been the realist, I've always been the optimist.

But I've placed everything on this, I've bet all my money on the next three months, and if I play my cards right, I'm confident that I can hit the jackpot.

So, when Radhika had said that, I'd just laughed out a weak laugh and said, "Escapism and glorification are the only ways I know how to live."

Downing the last of my water, I rest my arms on the grill of the balcony, and just wait. I wait until it isn't so dark outside, until the house opposite the balcony switches on their lights, until the lights on the street dim, natural light taking its place.

After I see some more signs of life, hear vehicles start to move on the roads, I get out of the balcony, slip into the loosest fitting clothes I can find, following the same routine that I've always followed before a shoot— wash my face, drink a single sip of water, take the knots out of my hair so that it's easier for the stylists, make sure I don't look absolutely terrible.

I make my way out of the house once I deem myself appropriate enough to step outside, quickly booking a cab for myself, one that arrives fairly soon for five in the morning.

"Where to?"

"Uh..." Shooting the cab driver an apologetic smile, I glance down at the messaging app that's opened up on my phone, where the address is linked. But it isn't exactly a specific location, since this shoot is supposed to be an outdoor shoot— one that's supposed to "embody the introduction of spring", or so Russel had said. "Just— it's here."

Surprise blooms behind the driver's eyes, and in an instant, I recognise the look.

It's the one that everyone who doesn't know me gives me. The one that says, Oh, he's ditzy. Oh, he's a model. A ditzy model.

Jumping to conclusions has never been something that I enjoyed doing, but when the driver's side-eyeing me as if I'm about to murder him, I'm not so sure he likes me very much.

Still, I let it slide, mostly because I need to get to the mystery location as soon as possible.

And by the looks of it, the driver lets it slide too, the rest of my drive going by in a dizzying blur.