Focus
They’re photos,dozens of them, all of the samegirl.
She’s beautiful, blonde and willowy with a perfect rosebud mouth. The photos are so intimate I instantly want to look away, like I’ve barged in on some private scene. There are shots of her brushing her teeth with a towel wrapped around her head, lying in bed with her hair splayed on the pillow like a halo, standing staring out a window wearing nothing but a men’sshirt.
I focus on the photo in the very centre of the wall. It’s printed out slightly bigger than the others. In it, the girl is frozen mid-laugh, delicate mouth stretched wide in a smile and her eyes downcast as golden light pours into the frame from behind her. She’s tugging a beanie that’s way too big for her onto herhead.
In all of Aaron’s photos, I’ve been able to tell exactly what his subjects were feeling, but in these ones, the most powerful emotions in the shots come from behind the lens. I may have yet to find a love this deep and desperate with anyone, but I know that’s what Aaron was feeling when he took these: the kind of love that hits you like a nuclear explosion, changing the landscape of your life forever and making it impossible to go back to the way you werebefore.
“What are youdoing?”
I jump at the harsh sound of Aaron’s voice and turn towards him. His face is twisted with a coldfury.
“What—What is this?” Istammer.
He steps closer and slams the closet doorshut.
“What makes you think you can just go around opening closets in myhouse?”
He looms over me, spitting the words out, and I take a faltering stepback.
“Well I didn’t think you’d be hiding something likethat,” I answer, finding my confidence again. “What the hell is that Aaron? Some kind of...of...shrine?”
“I’m not talking aboutit.”
He starts to walk into the living room, but I follow right on hisheels.
“Um, that’s not exactly something you can choose not toexplain.”
He whirls around to face me again. “I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t been going through mystuff.”
“I opened a closet Aaron, not some treasure chest marked ‘Top Secret.’ Who even is that? Why do you have a closet full of photos ofher?”
“You should have left italone.”
My mind is going a mile minute, trying to come up with possible explanations. The thought of every single one of themstings.
“Is she...a girlfriend?” My voice almost breaks. “An ex-girlfriend? Are you still seeingher?”
“I’mnottalking aboutit.”
My trepidation is catching fire and starting to burn likeanger.
“I was about to have sex with you after you told me you have feelings for me. I think I deserve to know if there’s someone else in the picture you’re madly in lovewith.”
“She’s not in thepicture.”
I’m taken aback by the bitterness in his voice. He clenches his hands into fists, breathinghard.
“So, what?” I continue. “You’re not over her? Was I just some kind of experiment, to see if you could get her out of yoursystem?”
He doesn’t say anything in return, and his silence slams into me like a rock smashing throughglass.
“That’s something I would have appreciated knowing before I started to...to really like you.” I swallow down the hurt and let it fuel my anger. “Do you wish I was her? Isthis”—I thrust a finger towards the closet—“what you think about when wefuck?”
“Shutup!”
His shout is so loud it echoes around the room. I just stare at him, not blinking until he looksaway.
