If I could take a picture of Joe and I's love, it would be from outside my apartment in Paris, through the little four-paned window in my living room. Joe and I would be sleeping, my head resting on his shoulder and his cheek resting atop my head, a blanket falling off of our laps, the fan oscillating and blowing my curtains. The very perfect moment to hit the shutter button would be when the curtain gave way to reveal us, sleeping together like that, quiet and together.
Or it would be from above, into the sunroof of the rental car that Joe and I drove across Lake Charles earlier this year, my head thrown back in laughter as he sang the song on the radio.
Or it would be from the first time we shared a meal together, just the two of us, at his house after the visit to the library when he and I became friends.
I could fill a scrapbook with all these pictures of Joe and I's love.
I was able to take Friday off for the holiday and we were able to spend the rest of the weekend in Paris, just him and I. In Cincinnati, you could spot Joe Burrow from a mile away, but in France, we could be incognito. No paparazzi to worry about, no fans to appease, not even any Bengals business to worry about--at least, for a few hours at a time. It felt like a part two to the vacation we had in Louisiana, and it was a much needed rejuvenation to our relationship.
On Saturday night, the last night Joe could spend in Paris before shipping back to Cincinnati to prepare for a Thursday football game, we had dinner underneath the Eiffel Tower. It was not the way I thought things were going to be resolved between us, but it sure was sweet--as sweet as the crème brûlée we shared under the lights.
"Sacré bleu, this shit is good," I said.
"So you did end up learning some French," he teased me.
"Only a little bit."
"How did you manage living your whole life in Louisiana and not picking up at least a few sentences?"
"C'mon, Burrow, I was just starting to like you again, and you're gonna dog me for that?" I snickered.
"We're having dinner underneath the Eiffel Tower. I think I can get away with a few things."
I gave him a playful roll of my eyes before looking out at the park. Pairs and groups were scattered about the field right beside the Eiffel Tower, and in the distance, tourists snapped photographs in front of the view. And yet, it felt like it was just Joe and I.
"I really can't believe I even got a chance to do this," I said, looking directly up the Eiffel Tower, scanning the rows of lights that donned the tower's lattices. A breeze blew through and I shuddered. I was wearing the nicest thing I brought to Paris, an airy spaghetti-strapped emerald green dress that hung just above my knees, but it was cold.
"Yeah?" Joe asked. He stood up to drape his jacket over me. I smiled.
"Yeah. This internship. Even though at the end of the day, it wasn't the best fit for me, I'm still so proud of myself for trying, you know?" After taking the last bite of my dessert, I leaned back and rested my arms against either side of the chair. It was certainly not a ladylike way to sit, but it was the only way I could get a good view of the tip of the tower. Still slumped, I looked over at Joe with half-lidded eyes. "I don't think I ever really thanked you."
"Thank me? For what?"
I shrugged. "You believed in me. Even if it meant things wouldn't be easy between us, you were willing to try anything just so I could try. And that means so much."
"You don't have to thank me, Ave. But... you're welcome," Joe said, mimicking my seating position. We both looked up at the tip of the tower together, bathing in the artificial sunlight of its light. "I'm proud of you. And I don't believe even for a second that this is the end of it for you. Whether you want to go back to taking pictures of the team, or hell, you want to take up painting--or even if you want to give it a shot back here if something opens up in a few years. I know that you're going to do a lot of amazing things. And I'm just so glad I get to see that."
I took a deep breath. I would add this picture of Joe and I's love to our scrapbook. I smiled across the table at him and kicked his foot. "I love you, slick," I told him.
"I love you too, Shot Caller."
Suddenly, I wore a mischievous smile. "You know, I couldn't help but remember... Didn't you once offer me a spot in your fancy mansion a while back? One with a big king-sized bed and Egyptian cotton sheets?" I felt hopeful for the future; we were picking up back where we left off.
Joe laughed. "You're showing your true colors, Avery."
-
Joe headed back to Cincinnati early Sunday morning, sending my wishes to Spencer and Trish and even giving my dad a call about what happened. Of course, my dad had to call me as soon as he found out.
Just as I was entering my apartment from dropping Joe off at the airport, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. "Hello?"
"Honey, I'm so proud of you," he told me.
"Oh, dad, it's way too early for you to be such a sap right now," I groaned.
"I'm being serious. C'mon! Can't your old man be proud of you?"
I cracked a smile and plopped down on my couch. "Honestly, I couldn't have done it without you. Tomorrow morning, I'm going to tell Mr. DuPont that I'm not going to take the position. And obviously, I'm going to thank him for giving me the opportunity."
"Good. Honey, I'm so proud of you. Would ya just let me be proud of you?"
"Fiiiine."
"I have to ask. How are things with you and Joe?"
I snickered. "Hmm, I don't know. You tell me, since you were probably just on the phone with him a few seconds ago. -- But, in all seriousness, he and I are... really great. I took your advice and I think things between us are just going to get better from here."
He breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Thank God. I was worried I was going to either have to pay big money to come visit you in Paris or just never see you again and make that pet raccoon we found at your uncle's house my new daughter."
"I was just about to tell you how much I loved you," I said, shaking my head. "I'm going to finish working 'til my internship ends, though. I booked my flight and I should land..." I trailed off to check my flight on my phone. "On New Year's Eve."
"Alright, kiddo, sounds good. I'll let you get some rest. Love you,"
"I love you, dad. Thanks for everything."
Though we often bickered, I realized I looked forward to my dad's calls more and more as the year went on. He was too focused on cracking jokes to give upper echelon advice, but he had his moments, and throughout the year I appreciated him being there for me more than I ever had. My mom's advice would have been different; more sophisticated and straight to the point. But my dad had no less warmth than she would have had. Together, my parents were like a fireplace on a cold night. I wished my mom was here to see how things were. I think that she would have gotten a kick out of the kinds of talks about life that my dad and I had. I only wished I had a chunk of the wisdom she carried so gracefully, but I liked to think that I was on my way to that.
On Monday I gave Mr. DuPont the news, and he was disappointed to hear that I wasn't interested, but I almost think he saw it coming. Maybe it was that I was my mother's daughter. I expected him to be cold to me--probably thinking about all the money the company had spent on my French language classes--but he told me that he was happy for me.
"You'll always have a friend in me, Mademoiselle Thompson. I loved your mother's work too much to just let you slip out of my hands," he teased. "Perhaps, if we ever do a United States issue, I'll contact you for photos of--Ohio, is it?"
I laughed. "Oui, monsieur. Again, I'm so thankful for the opportunity here. I really appreciate you taking a chance on a kid like me."
"Ah, please, mademoiselle. What's life without taking chances?"
We shook hands and my heart felt full.
When I first landed in France I had this sinking feeling in my stomach, like I was falling deeper and deeper into a pit of mud. I stuck around because I liked the view anyway, and I knew it was worth it to try so long as I had the opportunity. I only somewhat regretted not enjoying it to the fullest like Trish said, but I would forgive myself for it as time went on. The thought of coming back home would make it easier to look back on my time here with complete happiness, if I wasn't already doing so. After all, it was the place I felt closest to my mom in almost all dimensions; I was right there in her career, speaking to her almost-colleagues, enjoying her favorite food when I had the chance, and wrestling with the love of my life. And, just like she and my dad did, Joe and I made necessary sacrifices--sacrifices that didn't feel like we were losing anything at all.
I was grateful for everything.
Elena got in touch with me and offered me a spot back on the PR team at headquarters, but I didn't accept that either. It was a decision that I strangely didn't agonize over whether it was right or wrong. I just knew that for once, I wanted to be in charge of my career, not waiting for things to fall onto my lap. I would miss working for the Bengals, though; those last few months there, I thrived off the energy and the constant movement. And of course, I would miss the friendships that I solidified there, both within the organization and out. It was the football connection that anchored my relationship with my dad, with whom I otherwise felt like was an island I couldn't reach.
What would come next for me? I wasn't sure. But I was glad to be uncertain. I thought back to the first person who ever really taught me anything about photography--Earl--and imagined myself back in his studio in New Orleans. Parts of it were damp and dark like a basement, but the picture frames and camera parts that donned the studio formed a disco ball that I prospered underneath. Maybe I would pay Earl a visit when things settled down and ask him how he opened his business. Maybe a thing like that could flourish in Cincinnati, and if not, at least spark another kid's dream like it did mine.
My last month in Paris went by not in a blur, but in a slow capture of every frame, every moment. I soaked it all in. I took a photo a day, not at work, but of my life. Most days, I took multiple photos. I made time, either before work or after it, to explore the city and its outskirts, breaking free from the self-made confines of my apartment. I documented my favorite meals, random walks I took, and corners of the city that I'd stumbled into. What I found most special was that, instead of only taking pictures of the things I saw, I made it a point to be in some photos, too; to point the camera at myself and smile. I wanted to be remembered in these moments because I, too, deserved to be in them. No longer on the outside looking in, but someone who was there, too.
The last photograph I took in Paris was of my empty apartment at night before I whisked away to my evening flight. Light from a nearby street light shone in through that four-paned window in my living room, casting a plain silhouette on the wood floor. Just like the first photograph I ever took, I pointed my camera down at the floor and pressed the button.
And it was goodbye.
-
I landed in Cincinnati after a connecting flight from Cleveland about midday on New Year's Eve and knew that I had to hustle if I wanted to make it in time. To what, I can't quite reveal to you yet. I was ready and willing to hop on to the next Greyhound bus headed that way, rushing and almost pushing through the crowd in the airport. But before I even made it out of baggage claim--toting two large suitcases, my backpack, and my camera bag--I saw my dad and Trish and Spencer holding a massive sign that said my name on it.
I screamed in glee, crashing into them with a hug. "I can't believe you guys are here!"
"Alright, alright, kids, no time for celebrating," my dad said, taking the lead as he grabbed my backpack and camera bag and headed out of the airport. Behind him, Spencer and Trish each took a suitcase. I ran with them into the parking garage.
My dad threw his keys at me to get the door unlocked and his car started as they each shoved my stuff in the trunk. Once the trunk was closed, we scurried into our respective seats, my dad taking the driver's wheel and my friends and I each taking the backseat.
As we sped through traffic (and I worried about us either getting pulled over or flipping over on the highway), I sat sandwiched between Spencer and Trish as they fixed my hair and did my makeup. I had changed out of my raggedy airport clothes and freshened up with a spritz of perfume, like, everywhere.
We were exactly eight minutes away from our destination and midnight would hit in 10. My stomach was exploding in swarms of butterflies and I could hardly stay still, even if my friends held me down against the seat. It was a gorgeous frenzy through and through.
"God, dad, we're not gonna make it! Just slow down!" I yelled frantically, watching my dad weave through traffic.
"We are gonna make it and I won't slow down! If only Grammy here wasn't taking a Sunday stroll..." he trailed off, only to yell at the car as we passed it by: "GO HOME TO YOUR CATS, BARBARA!"
She flipped him the bird, rightfully.
We all burst out laughing.
I just took a deep breath, knowing we weren't going to get there any faster even if my heart was racing at a hundred miles a second. I closed my eyes.
When I opened them, I took a final look at myself in my compact, fixed my dress, and before I knew it, we were there.
My dad stepped on the brakes right in front of our destination and Trish and Spencer and I jolted out and toward the entrance. As soon as I took my first few steps in the grass, my heels sunk in and I tripped over. "Ah, shit!"
"Ave, you okay?" Spencer got to my side.
"Stop asking questions and just pick her up! C'mon, let's go!" Trish exclaimed.
Spencer did just that, throwing me over his shoulder as we sped toward the front door. We were let in by a familiar face and Spencer set me down so that I could make my way to the living room, passing by decorations and picture frames and memorabilia.
Joe's house, once an empty shell, was full of his closest friends and family to ring in the new year, and they all moved out of my way on purpose as I beelined for him. It was all going according to our hush-hush plan. Thankfully, Joe wasn't paying attention.
After all, it was nearing the 10-second countdown for midnight. I heard them all counting:
"10, 9, 8, 7..."
I was almost there.
"6, 5, 4, 3..."
In the living room now. Didn't know who all was around me. All I saw was his blonde head of hair looking up at the television.
"2, 1..."
"Hey, Burrow." I touched his shoulder and his lips parted. He wasn't supposed to see me for a couple more days. I wasn't supposed to be home for a couple more days.
We smiled at each other. "Happy new year," I told him, my voice quiet as everyone around us celebrated.
He grabbed me and kissed me, hard, dipping me. Everyone around us had given us space to share our moment, but that didn't stop them from throwing confetti, blowing into their noisemakers, and cheering for us and the new year. We kissed for a second longer before I pulled away and grabbed his phone out of his jacket pocket. Before he could ask what I was doing, I took a selfie of us.
It was a blurry, technicolor selfie, with confetti in the frame and our faces illuminated by the flash. Behind us, Christmas decorations clashing with 2023-shaped sunglasses. I don't even think our eyes were fully open, we were smiling that big. I'd made it. We made it.
"I love you," I told him, stuffing his cellphone back in his pocket and hugging him tight. He squeezed me right back.
"I love you," Joe said. Not that he loved me, too, or that he loved me right back; that he plain just loved me, unconditionally, no holes barred.
THE END
-
A/N: wow... we did it! I can't believe I finished Capturing You. I've wanted to write and complete a book for so long, and I'm proud to say this book helped me achieve that goal for the first time! I can't thank everyone enough for their patience and readership and love for this book and these characters. All the votes, reads, and comments were the last thing I was expecting to get when I sat down one day earlier this winter and said, "I'll give this a shot." This fandom is so sweet and supportive. Honestly I can't thank you guys enough!!!
On my tumblr (joebrrrow), I got a question asking if this was the last we'd ever see of Joe and Avery or if I was planning on writing some sort of spin-off. To that, I say, I'm not sure! It's too early to tell. I know I'm not ready to say goodbye to Joe and Avery yet. I love these two so much! I do have ideas, but I'm not sure if they'll be enough for a full-fledged sequel or if they'll just be for shorter stories/one-offs.
Again, thank you all so much. I'm speechless!
If you have any questions, feedback, or just want to keep in touch, feel free to reach me at my Tumblr: joebrrrow :)
Much love, Ana <3