Chapter 4

I tried taking more still life and landscape photos on Thursday and Friday. I was getting better at knowing what the new camera could do, but my pictures still lacked soul. I could make shape, form, and shadow interesting, but in the same way a Tesla was interesting. I appreciated the engineering, but a car wrapped around an iPad wasn’t going to capture the spirit of the open road.

I needed the spirit. I needed to shoot people.

So Saturday when Katie brought the boys over for more yard work, I took a break and took some action shots of them. They were actually pretty good. I captured my youngest grandson’s playfulness when he tossed bush trimmings end over end into the trash can. I also had a nice shot of the two boys working together to bring down a dead tree limb that wasn’t too high up.

But the best picture?

Katie. Hands on her hips, sunhat pushed back, beaming as she watched her boys.

Beaming.

The pride in her stance, her expression, her—everything.

I got the photo before she noticed.

I went to bed satisfied that night. I’d finally taken a keeper.

I showed Katie the pictures of her and the boys on Sunday when she came by for dinner. I waited until we’d sat down to eat—chicken breasts and sautéed veggies—before bringing out my laptop. I saved the three good ones for the end, an unveiling of sorts. She “got it” though—he eyebrows rose and she smiled when she saw the picture I’d taken of her.

“I need to be photographing people,” I said.

“Mmm hmm. Hire a model?”

“Maybe. I tried that a few months ago. It didn’t work.”

“You did?”

I briefly told her about the session with Alyssa and how I really hadn’t been satisfied with the results.

“She was sexy enough, but...” I paused and struggled with my words. “I didn’t feel I captured her.”

“No connection?”

“Yeah ... yeah, that’s it. The whole session felt like I was going through the motions.”

She nodded. “That’s not how it used to be.”

“No. Not even with Bambi.”

Katie laughed. “Bambi? I remember her.”

“She was kind of unforgettable.”

Katie continued to chuckle. “What a train wreck.”

“That she was. But we got some good pictures.”

We shared a grin.

“So,” Katie said, “you need to find a new model.”

“Or try again with Alyssa. It wasn’t her fault the pictures were flat.”

“Mmm.”

“Maybe both. No reason I have to have just one model.”

“Good point.” She got a faraway look in her eyes.

“What?”

“I have some ideas.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “Let me follow up with them first. Besides...” She grimaced. “You can’t do anything until next week anyway.”

I sighed. She meant after my two nights in prison, even if she wasn’t saying it.

“Okay.” I finally said. “Next week.”

The two nights in jail weren’t as bad as I’d expected. I had a cellmate, but all he did was sleep. He was in for drug possession, and what little time he was awake, he spent staring at the wall.

They let me have some books, so I spent my time reading. It passed the time until I finished them. Then I spent a lot of time in thought, or writing in my notebook. I’d heard journaling was good for mental health, so I gave it a try.

I needed to get past Caroline. Not that I’d ever forget her, but I couldn’t be getting drunk over her. That needed to stop. Which meant I needed to find something to live for.

I knew some widowers devoted themselves to their remaining family, but that didn’t seem right. My grandsons had their own lives and the weekends helping me were already an imposition. They hadn’t complained out loud, but I could tell they wanted to spend more time with their friends. Katie, too, had her own life. I needed to let her live it. The sooner she felt like she didn’t have to come over and babysit me, the better.

I toyed with the idea of getting re-involved in University life, but there were reasons I’d retired. Outside of the photography club, I didn’t really miss it. I didn’t see much value in going back. I supposed I could start attending the club meetings again, if the current advisor didn’t mind. She probably wouldn’t, so I resolved right then to talk to her in the fall, when classes started up again.

No ... I needed to get back into my own photography. I could open up a studio, I supposed, and go commercial. Maybe do boudoir photography. I’d be good at that, and the money wouldn’t hurt.

Or I could start seeking out artistic opportunities. My ties with the big East Coast and California galleries were rough, but I could work on building them up. I’d have to get used to rejections, but I could do that. I’d never considered myself one of the best. Just ... good enough.

Or I could do both, I realized. They weren’t exclusive. And a bit of artistry would help the boudoir shots.

But the artistry...

I sighed. I missed Caroline horribly. She’d been my muse. How was I going to take great pictures without her?

Katie picked me up when I was released. She forced a calm expression, but I could see the worry in her eyes. Beyond the worry, she actually looked good. Less like my overgrown little girl and more like a mature woman. She had her hair washed and styled and wore her best teacher clothes, as if she were going to an important meeting, instead of standing in a waiting room at the local jail.

Which I supposed she was, when I saw my lawyer standing off to the side.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine.” I smiled at the lawyer. “They treated me okay. I didn’t have any problems.”

He nodded and turned to Katie. “Then I’ll be going.”

“Sure.” She turned back to me. “What can we do for you?”

“I want a steak. And a glass of wine.”

She nodded. “We’ve got a few hours before dinner...”

“You took off work again?”

“Semester’s over Friday.”

I furrowed my brow. I didn’t think that made it okay, but I wasn’t going to argue.

“So until dinner?”

“Home. Then a nap. I didn’t sleep well.”

She nodded and didn’t ask further.

Which was good, because I’d slept well enough. But after two days of thinking about Caroline, I needed some “alone time” in a serious way.

Like she’d threatened after I’d first been arrested, Katie moved in after the school year ended. On Friday, she showed up later than expected—Jason had been late picking up the boys—and she only brought two suitcases. She said she could always go back for anything she’s forgotten. After a very pleasant meal of homemade tacos, which we’d prepared together, we relaxed at the kitchen table.

“So...,” she said, breaking the peaceful quiet, “I’ve been thinking about your models. Do they need to be nude?”

I shrugged. “It’s better, but they don’t have to be.”

She nodded. “And what about the model you shot six months ago?”

“Alyssa? Those weren’t very good.”

“Can I see them?”

I shrugged. “Sure. They’re in my files. I’ll go get them.”

“I’ll come with you.”

We got the photos out of my files and spread them out on the now empty table in my developing room. I stayed quiet while Katie carefully studied each one in turn. Most of the time, she frowned. Until she came to the last one, with Alyssa bent over the chaise, from behind.

“This one’s good.”

“It’s the pose.”

“Because it highlights her pussy?”

“Exactly. Without being vulgar.”

“Mmm hmm.”

She held it up and turned it slightly, looking from multiple angles.

“Have you done this pose before?”

I chuckled. “All the time.”

“Oh?”

“It was your mother’s favorite.”

She laughed and I shrugged.

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll make some calls tomorrow.”

Katie and I spend a quiet weekend doing routine chores around the house. I’d thankfully not let the rest of the place get as messy as my studio. It didn’t take much vacuuming, dusting, and scrubbing to get it up to what Katie called “Mom’s standards.”