Who Am I (A Jai Courtney Fanfic) Book 2

Chapter 15-Jai

Jai

Meg and I enter the gallery on Tuesday morning.  I'm still in awe of this.  Her exhibit really does look so professional—like she belongs in this type of arena. Even without me, she has the talent to truly succeed.  However, I'm going to do anything I can to help her make it big.  I feel like she deserves it. 
We spend the morning naming her works.  She actually asks me for some help and she loves the names I choose. 
"You should've been a comedian.  You missed your calling," she smiles. 
I grin at that.  I always have loved a good laugh.  We stand in front of the last series—the largest one.  "What do you think?" she asks. 
I sigh and stare at them.  I've seen some of these places.  Through her lens, they actually look better than standing in front of the building.  Her CBD in truth doesn't look dead. It looks impressive and majestic here.
"How about: Through A Different Light?" I suggest. 
She looks to me.  "It does look better than actually standing there, doesn't it?" she nods.  "It honestly looks... alive and a place to see instead of a ghost town."
"Yeah," I agree. 
"I think I'll just number them individually.  I honestly don't know the names of the buildings—if they even have one.  Maybe in the future, I'll think it through in advance and use the addresses.  But for now, only a few have those showing so it'd be inconsistent," she says. 
"That's a good point," I tell her. 
I watch in the office as she and Eliza type up all of the titles on the list.  They print them out on card stock.  Eliza cuts them carefully with a guillotine while Meg affixes them on the wall beside each frame.  I look over the first card after she moves on.  It reads:

Jet Lag Series: Stuffed
Triptych (1 of 3)
Pencil, charcoal, and chalk
Drawing on paper
11"x 17" matted in a 24" x 36" shadow box
By: Megan Wright

I look over the image once more, admiring it because it'll be gone soon. I see her signature on it in the bottom right corner.  Her penmanship is beautiful and legible. 
I feel arms slide around my waist from behind and I smile, caressing her forearm.  "What are you thinking?" she asks me. 
"Why such a big frame for these?" I'm wondering.  There's enormous. 
"Well... the drawing paper is an odd proportion," she explains.  "I could've used a smaller frame but then it would've looked strange.  It would've had either no mat—just floating around in a 16x20 frame—or go larger with a properly cut mat.  I didn't have time for a custom frame so I took the standard sizes.  I think it turned out well.  These were definitely the most expensive frames, though.  I lucked out with the ones in the other room.  I got those in a bargain bin with a coupon," she tells me laughing at the last bit.  "I've got to thank the guy at the rock climbing gym for that."
"Why's that?" I chuckle lightly, confused. 
"I took some pictures for his website and he paid me for them.  That covered the cost of those," she shrugs releasing me. 
"You have been busy, haven't you?" I point out.  She really is doing everything I suggested.  She listens to me and heeds my advice. 
"Well, it was either do something... or that," she motions to the blue wall. 
I turn around and hold her.  She worked and kept busy while I sulked around spitting the dummy and got pissed.  I think her method was more productive, but then I recall that once I heard how she was really doing, I straightened out and worked my bum off, too.  I don't know why I think of that film—As Good As It Gets... probably because she really does make me want to be a better man, too. 
I look out over everything in the room and realize that when I hear the whole story, God really did provide for her.  I kiss her forehead and release her as Eliza calls out about the next stack.  I help her finish setting them all up and we head out. 
We get some tucker at a health food place.  She says she's been eating too much junk food and I agree.  The foods have been healthier—not all fried—but higher in fat than probably what we'd eat at home, or maybe her house at least.  The place we stop at has the funniest names for their smoothies—all film or celebrity related—and she chooses a blue one just because of the name alone.  It's called Rufio's Blue Dream.
"How is it?" I ask.
"It's good... interesting, but good.  I have no idea what's in here, though," she says.  "Blueberries maybe and something else tropical."
I reach for it and try some.  "That's not bad... weird but not bad," I agree.  I think there might be nuts in there which is kind of strange with blueberries but I'm honestly not sure what's in that. 
I look at the juice options and can't stop laughing.  They're all plays on words with character names like Bluice Wayne and Juice Bigalow.  We order some food, too, and have a seat at a quiet table in the corner.  I sit close to her, nuzzling in and whispering in her ear.  She can't stop laughing and I love the sound of it, having my arms around her.  Lately, this really has been the best time of my life and I'm so grateful for it. 
"So... we're done for the day.  What do you want to do next?" I ask. 
"We could go to one of those places on your list," she suggests.  "What was it—an aquarium and the Field Museum?"
"Yeah," I nod.  "We could do either of those," I say before kissing her shoulder. 
A fan comes up and interrupts us.  I sign a paper for them and take a quick picture without getting up.  I know Megan was in that one but I don't care.  I'm comfortable with her right now and we're eating. 
"You don't mind, do you?" I ask her after they're gone. 
"Your fans?" she asks. 
I nod. 
"Never," she smiles.  "Well, except the ones that get a little weird with the stalking and whatnot."
"Yeah, same here," I agree.  I kiss her cheek and she looks at me grinning. 
We try to leave when we're done.  There's actually a queue of people once I start with the first and I'm genuinely appreciative of these ones waiting until we were finished eating.  Megan stands off to the side while I give my fans a bit of attention.  I hand them each my signature, take pictures, and chat a little.
"Who's this?" the last bloke asks me motioning to Megan. 
"This," I say reaching for her hand.  "...is the love of my life."
He laughs in surprise and asks if he can get a picture of both of us.  I ask her if it's okay and she agrees. 
"So, what do you do?" he inquires of her. 
"Um, I'm an artist," she shrugs.  "I've got a show this week in the art district."
"Oh, that's awesome.  My girlfriend's in the Art Institute for fine art," he says. 
She smiles at that and she invites him to the show on Friday, handing him one of the exhibition cards we got this morning from her bag.  He shakes her hand and then mine, thanking us. 
"He was nice," she comments as we step away. 
"Yeah," I agree.  I actually sort of like how she invites people with similar interests to her exhibit.  It's kind and thoughtful.  I bet he appreciates it and it'll expand her fan base, too. 
We go back to the hotel and change for being outside before we travel to the Field Museum.  Megan changes quickly and knocks on my side door. 
"Just a minute, love," I tell her. 
I open the door and she has her camera bag and a film roll canister, I think, in her hands. 
"What are you doing?" I question. 
"Can I use your bathroom?  Mine doesn't have a door and it's too bright to load this?" she asks me. 
I nod in response but I'm not really following.  I watch as she steps in and I have a seat on the lounge.  I wait for her to shut the door and she comes out a moment later walking to the windows and closing all of the curtains.  I laugh sitting here in the dark as she goes back in.  She comes out a minute later and she's putting black electrical tape—I think—all over the outside of her camera. 
"What are you doing, love?" I ask curiously. 
"Making this light tight," she mumbles.  "That should be good enough."  She strides back over to the curtains and opens them.  She checks her camera again and nods.  "Better."
"I'm confused," I tell her. 
"Oh," she says.  And then she explains to me all about the infrared film she just loaded into her camera—how it has to be loaded in the dark and that light affects it.  "That's why I taped up the camera, too—just in case it's not completely light tight."
"That's what you used for the city photos, right?" I question. 
"It is," she nods. 
"So the film is what makes it look like that?" I question.  She nods.  "Alright," I smile thinking that I finally get to watch her in action. 
She asks if I'd drive and I agree but she warns me she's going to frequently ask me to stop.  I chuckle and nod still intrigued by this.  We drive out of the car park and get a few blocks away and she's already asking me to pull over.  I chuckle and oblige her.  I watch as she steps out while I join her.  She sets up a tripod in less than a minute putting a red filter on her lens.  I furrow my brows in confusion and watch as she attaches her camera to the tripod and sets everything up.  She adjusts two dials—which in all honesty, I know nothing about.  She takes two pictures, manually scrolling the film.  It's been quite a while for me to see that done since most photographers anymore have switched over to digital.  She removes her camera and closes up the tripod quickly. 
"Okay, I'm done," she says climbing back in. 
"That was fast," I comment getting in as well.  "Only two pictures?" I question. 
"I would've only taken one if I'm absolutely certain I didn't fog the first frame," she tells me. 
I ask her to explain what she means and she tells me all about how light affects the film—especially infrared since it's sensitive to ultraviolet light.  "That's why I can't take these on a flight.  The X-rays are a form of light and it'll ruin this, or any film for that matter," she says. 
I nod in understanding, that thought never occurring to me before. 
"You really know your stuff," I point out. 
She laughs lightly and thanks me for the compliment.  I glance to her as we drive on.  She only has me pull over once more and I stand behind her looking at what she's photographing.  It's interesting.  It's on par with the other series yet different.  She takes one shot and she's ready to go.  I'm honestly curious that she's so confident yet kind of in shock that's all she's taking, too.  I guess I'm used to model photography, though, where I've been known to blink and ruin the image.  She's doing primarily landscapes and she's also leaving it open for a bit longer like she explained before—probably getting that streaking effect from the crowds and the wind blowing the tree branches. 
We pull into the car park and I laugh that this is the same location as the planetarium.  I hadn't even realized.  I see the aquarium, too, and I wonder if we might just stop there today since we're already here... if we have the time.
We step inside and pay our admission.  We go to a prehistoric oceans exhibit first.  I notice Megan get out a different camera from her bag—this one not covered in tape.  She still sets up her tripod, though, and I recall hearing that there's no flash photography allowed.  She sets everything up and takes one picture again before moving on.  She reaches out for my hand and we walk around together.  I feel like I spend more time observing her than the exhibit... and I don't mind one bit.  It's interesting but yet, I find her more fascinating.  I watch as she sets her camera on a ledge and takes a picture from an unusual angle.  She smiles at me and moves on.  She actually only takes a few pictures at this exhibit before we move onto the dinosaurs.  She takes a couple here as well—mostly of the dinosaurs and mammoth bones.  She mostly puts her camera away and doesn't seem too interested in the evolution section whatsoever. 
"Not your thing, love?" I question. 
"I don't believe in evolution—at least not like they say here," she tells me. 
We chat a bit about what she does believe and talk more on Creation... and I start to understand what she means a little.  She speaks on how incomplete the bones they find actually are and how they test in controlled environments but how the bones never were until then so lots of variables could effect things like that.  "There's some science I agree with and some I just believe is fabricated," she tells me. 
"What about the dinosaurs?" I ask curiously about what she thinks. 
"They didn't make it in the ark," she laughs. 
I chuckle, too, since we just read that together last night. 
"But seriously, I honestly don't know about all of this.  I don't believe in the Big Bang and all that.  I really do believe that God made the Universe and everything in it in six days and rested on the seventh.  I don't know all the details since I wasn't there and the Bible just gives us a glimpse into it.  But I trust God.  I don't believe we evolved from primates.  I think we have a lot in common with them but I can't play the piano with my toes so there's some differences," she smiles and I laugh. 
"You really believe it was seven days?" I ask curiously. 
"I think that God knows everything.  A lifetime for us is just a blink of an eye for him, so who really knows but him?  Scientists can make guesses but they're not entirely sure either.  I figure that I know what God says about some things but not about others.  I don't worry about what I don't know.  I'll find out all the mysteries of the universe when I get to Heaven.  Until then, I'll just wonder," she shrugs. 
We walk through a section with more dinosaur bones and I can't help but ask, "So you think they didn't make it on the ark?"
"That was a joke," she laughs.  "But I don't know.  That's one of those things I don't really worry much about.  They could've missed the ship, been too big to fit, died off beforehand.  Maybe they were delicious and hunted into extinction," she laughs and I chuckle.  "They could've even been here before man... I have no idea.  The Bible doesn't talk about it.  But it does say that the earth was there already.  Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters."
‭‭I nod in understanding.  I remember that, too.  That was like Genesis 1:2, I think.  I recall what I said the first time we conversed about Genesis, how we were speaking about Noah and the flood at the school build in Jamaica. We talked on judgement and the rainbow.  I said that God killing off everyone was a dick move jokingly and she got angry at me.  I see now that what I said then was wrong—especially reading how everyone was wicked, how their thoughts were evil all the time.  I can't even imagine a world where only one family did good—the rest evil.  That sounds like a nightmare... so I mention it to Megan and she turns to me and listens as I speak.  Her eyes meet mine and I see understanding. 
"I know," she nods.  "That's why I didn't want to continue the conversation.  I didn't want to offend you and you didn't want to offend me.  I knew you didn't understand.  But you do now so so don't worry about the past.  It's washed away."
I smile and laugh lightly at how much she really does understand me—my thoughts and feelings.  We're so incredibly in sync.  I can't help but pash her in front of everyone.  She laughs into the kiss and holds me tightly.  I hear some whistling and then an attendant shushing them.  I laugh, too, and peck her lips once more. 
"Let's go see that light exhibit," I say. 
"Alright," she easily agrees. 
As we walk there she turns to me.  "You know what museum I've never been to but always wanted to go?" she mentions. 
"Where?" I inquire curiously. 
"The Ark Encounter," she says. 
"Never heard of it," I tell her. 
"It's either in Cincinnati or just over the Ohio boarder in Kentucky, but I'm not sure.  It's supposed to be an actual scale build of the ark," she tells me. 
"That's interesting," I say surprised and realize I wouldn't mind joining her.  That sounds pretty epic.