*♡ Ellie ♡*
The last photography class is about to begin. Unsurprisingly, Jonathan is late. We've been spending a lot of time together. Sometimes for assignments and other times just to hang out. Last week, we binge-watched the entire first season of Will & Grace.
I flip through my notes. The accelerated course only lasted six weeks, but I've learned a lot. My nighttime self-studies probably weighed in on that. What else was I going to do during those waking hours?
Sleep? I wish.
Rest is not for the wicked.
"Sorry I'm late." Jonathan quickly takes the seat next to me. "I had a hair-crisis."
I chuckle. "You're such a cliché."
He leans back in his chair, mischief in his eyes. "Would you rather have me tell you the truth? Because I can go into detail about my bowel movement."
My nose almost scrunches into my face. "That's gross."
We both laugh and then stop when the scrape of throat commands us to be silent. "Good evening, class." Matt smiles at his students, a little evilly. "Who wants to go first?"
Crab sticks.
The presentation we all have to do slipped my mind. I'm prepared, of course, but I'm not too keen on showcasing the photos I took. They're all very personal to me.
My funny friend raises his hand. "I'll go, I'd like to get it over with."
Matt gestures him to come forward. Without a hint of nerves, Jonathan shoves the USB in the laptop that's connected to the overhead projector. The first photo shows two pretty blonds giggling at the camera. He took this picture in the park when we met for coffee that first time.
Matt addresses the other students. "Any thoughts?"
After a silent minute, Madison—who bears a striking resemblance to Velma from Scooby-Doo—tips her head and says, "The girl on the left is in an odd position. It makes her neck look too long."
Even though she's right, I don't appreciate the negative review. "Maybe so, but the glee on her face is very real. Capturing emotion was the assignment, after all."
Jonathan gives me a wink of gratitude. The following pictures aren't that good either and the comments are harsh, but he seems unaffected. Amused, even.
Jonathan turns to our teacher. "So, what do you think? Am I the new Man Ray?"
Matt chews his lip, searching for the right words. "I wouldn't try to make a career out of it, if I were you."
Ouch.
Tough words. I hope they won't get him down. Apparently, the exact opposite is happening, because he rolls back his head and lets out shoulders-shaking laugh.
When he sits down again, I regard him carefully and ask, "Are you sure you're okay? That was pretty brutal."
A last snicker blows from his nose. "Don't worry, I knew it was crap. To be honest, I knew photography wasn't for me after that first class. I much rather observe art than create it."
I already noticed he wasn't as into it as me, but his answer surprises me. "Why didn't you quit?"
He shrugs. "I was bored and you seemed like fun. Besides, I had already paid for it."
Even though this course was just a way for him to occupy his spare time, I'm immensely grateful he stayed. If he hadn't, I may not have been doing mildly okay right now. I would've been a much bigger mess.
"Ms. Walker, care to show us your work?"
Nope.
However, I attach my camera to the laptop and skip to the first assignment. A picture of two doves with eyes squinted and heads rubbed together fills the screen.
Matt nods slowly, chin in hand. "Very interesting. I'm not sure if it fits the assignment completely, but you really have an eye for the right lighting."
All my other photos receive positive feedback as well. It feels good to have something of my own. Like I'm finally becoming my true self without relying on other people to give direction.
Hesitantly, I show the last picture. For our final assignment, we had to take a portrait photograph. I decided to step out of my comfort zone and did one of myself. It took some time finding the right settings and even more time finding the right pose. The photo is in grey scale with a black backdrop, making it seem like I'm surrounded by darkness. Which was my intention. We were instructed to bring out our character in one single shot. For obvious reasons, a big smile would've looked fake.
"I'm impressed, Ellie." Matt steps closer, eyeing the screen with a great deal of attention. "This is beyond amateur level. The angle you chose really allows the viewer to look into your eyes and see your soul. If it was your goal to appear lost and broken, you did an excellent job."
My voice thickens with emotion. "Thank you."
He smiles. "If you keep practicing and experimenting, I'd say you can actually make a very rewarding career out of it."
With a shy but elated smile, I get back into my chair. Jonathan pokes me in the ribs with his elbow. "Told you they were good."
He did say that on numerous accounts, but I figured he was just being nice to the sad girl. Should I try to turn this hobby, distraction, into a full time job? For the first time in months, I feel a little excited. Perhaps, this will give me a sense of purpose again.
What would Tex have said if I told him I wanted to become photographer? Would he've been proud? I think so. Even though he was a bit of a Negative Nancy, he was a hard worker with a passion for creativity. It's heartbreaking to know that I will never have him in front of my camera. I would've absolutely loved to capture his alluring persona.
Jonathan sighs. "I'm going to miss this."
I turn to him, smiling. "Me too, but we'll continue being friends ... right?"
He nods absentmindedly, the hallmarks of his fun-loving character nowhere to be seen. Did I misread our friendship? Perhaps, it was just a short-term thing to him.
➖➖➖➖
After class, Jonathan and I head over to the coffee shop to talk a little before going home, like we always do. Hot cocoa pleases my tastebuds. I wasn't sure if a sweet drink would breach my self-imposed punishment, so I ordered it without whipped cream or tiny marshmallows. That must even it out.
Jonathan has been quiet ever since class ended. It's very unlike him. Usually, his mouth doesn't keep still. Some days, he calls me to have chat while he's eating breakfast of having dinner. He even put me on speakerphone when he was relaxing in his bathtub the other day. "Entertain me, Ellie," he had begged, sounding purposely dramatic. "Soaking in silence is boring."
Point being, he's a talker and he hasn't spoken a word aside from ordering a mochaccino. It's strange and worrying. Did I say something wrong? Was it the friends-thing?
The night air is cold with a snowfall, so I grip my steaming to-go-cup a little firmer. Since we're already walking back to our cars, I try some small-talk. "How is living in Brenton? Do you like working at the museum?"
He blinks as if he was in thought and then gives me his full attention. "It's okay. I moved here for the job, but Civil War relics aren't my specialty. I majored in modern art." His head slants to the side like he's curious. Hopeful, almost. "Why? Are you thinking of moving here?"
I shrug. "Just weighing my options. Can't live with my parents forever."
His pace slows, like he's dreading to reach the parking lot. "Well, I've been meaning to tell you something, but I don't want to upset you. I can see you're still not back on your feet. I'm afraid it'll make things harder for you."
Bad news is coming, I can feel it looming over us. I don't want him him to feel responsible for my mood though. "Don't worry about me. What's on your mind?"
A withheld breath leaves his lips, forming a misty cloud. "I applied for a job at a very hip museum. It's pretty much everything I've been looking for."
That's not bad news at all. My drink sloshes in the cup as I bounce on the spot, beaming on behalf of my friend. "That's great! Did you get it?"
"Of course. Who would say no to this pretty face?" His brash grin drops into a grimace. "But it's in San Francisco."
"Oh." I do my best to keep voice from falling. "So you're moving there?"
He nods, sadly. "Yeah, next Tuesday actually. I didn't think it wouldn't happen so fast, or at all, but they helped me with finding an apartment and, well, it's settled."
That soon?
"I'm happy for you." My smile is far too tight to convince anyone. "You deserve this and you will fit right in an artsy city like San Francisco."
It's true, he's not meant to spend his life in a heartland-town. The city will suit him. He'll make tons of friends who will entertain him. My services won't be required much longer.
Don't cry.
My changed mood must've been tangible because he halts and says, "I don't like leaving you all sad and alone."
Potato chips.
I've become too depended on him and he knows it. The last thing I want is for him to think that I can't take care of myself. I can, it's just very hard at the moment. I bump his shoulder playfully. "I'm a big girl, Johnny-Boy. I'm sure I will come up with a plan myself at some point. The world's my oyster, right?"
My forced chuckle disappears into the night. Jonathan, however, seems lively all of a sudden, as if an uncontainable spark of energy courses through his being. "You know, I could always use a roommate. Why don't you come with me? We could both start over, have a little adventure. It could be like a sitcom."
What now?
My belly does some strange flops, the reason why undetermined. Is it enthusiasm or apprehension? I can't believe he's asking me along on his big journey. I'm hardly good company. "You'd really want that?"
A broad smile pushes his cheekbones upward. "Of course. You're a bit odd, but fun to be around. Besides, I think it would be good for you."
He could be right, but am I ready? I frown at my cup, trying to get in touch with my emotions. "I don't know. It's a big step. Can I think about it?"
"Sure, take all the time you need." His arm slings around my shoulder, followed by a laugh. "It's only Thursday now."
After a hug, we part ways. This goodbye wasn't too bad, it didn't feel definite. While driving home, I try imagining myself living in San Francisco. It would be fun to share an apartment with Jonathan. He'd make a great roommate, but accepting his offer means closing the book on Tex and me. It's foolish, of course. I already did that when I fled Los Angeles. In fact, it was the sole reason I left.
When I park the car in the driveway, I turn off the engine and stare at the front door. Many times, I've pictured him standing there, knocking on the wood to save me and take me home. After all, home is where the heart is and mine belongs to him forevermore.
I sigh and get out. It's a fantasy, nothing more. I've read too many books and seen too many rom-coms. In real life, people move on and he should do exactly that. How long will it take me to accept this?
What sign am I waiting for?
♡♡♡♡
A/N
What sign, indeed? 😈
X Dionne