After Life

31

I pulled the blanket up higher across myself, hooking it over my shoulder while I adjusted my position on the couch. I shifted to my side, tucking my feet close to my bum, pulling them in as I wiggled my toes within the confines of my warm socks.  I leaned my head against the back of the couch, my eyes still locked forward on the TV in front of me.

It was Sunday morning, and my plan for the day was simple: do absolutely nothing.

My original plan had been to do my second shoot with Harry. Another session to gather more images for my final project, which although incomplete and slightly rocky at the moment, had so far garnered praise from my professor. I had planned on just shooting Harry on the street, walking around the city, lost within himself as he always seemed to be. It was a simple plan, since all I would have to do was fall a few paces behind him, or to catch him off guard, and the image would create itself. Street photography had always been one of my favorite, and easily captured, genres. Because there was no set up. Nothing contrived or created. Your entire capture was the setting itself, the natural pace of life, the people and the buildings and the lives around you, that built your subject.

Considering Harrys distain and natural tendency to avoid the camera, I figured this would have been the most appropriate choice of second shoot between us. Now that I had shot with him before, I had a better feel for his comfort and what made him tick. I had no idea what to do for a third session, but I also had time before that all important final shoot was due.

But like I said, that was my plan. My new plan, although not as productive, was much more appealing to me at the moment.

After the stand off between Harry and I in the hallway on campus three days prior, I had abandoned our plan to shoot today for no other reason than I did not want to deal with him. I was angry and hurt and just frustrated beyond belief that even after all this time and all the exchanges between us, Harry still held the belief that I was in his life for no other reason than to pry and disrupt the little shell he occupied.

Yes, that was how we came to know each other. And yes, that was the foundation of our introduction, and the catalyst for our working together. But over the last few weeks, I thought we had moved past that. I thought, maybe foolishly, that we had become friends.

But his abrupt and harsh attack in the hallway had been my breaking point. Usually, I would let his mood swings go, giving him time to calm down, knowing that after a while we would go back to how we were...gently bickering, with hints of humor and angst. But this time I was just done. I was tired of having to always be on my toes, of always been afraid of an attack from him no matter what I did or said. He was constantly accusing me of prying, and although I was photographing him, I had never asked him about his past. Not once.

I knew it was a source of tension and upset for him, and therefore, never said a word about it. I went along with our arrangement, doing my best to capture his qualities and his beauty in a subtle and unobtrusive way, without unearthing the things that he held beneath the surface. It wasn't an easy task, since usually you liked to know what it was you were trying to bring to light when working with a subject. But the whole point of a final project was to challenge your skill and creativity as a photographer, and Harry sure did make me work for it.

I knew we needed to shoot again, and soon. And although we had agreed to shoot today, I needed more time away from him. I was still angry and hurt, so today was a movie day with me and myself...and possibly a bag of chips.