We were standing in a parking lot at night. But it wasn’t dark, it wasn’t filled with cars and it was not silent. Behind his head, I could see a food truck with a girl handing out a gigantic ball of pink fluff rolled on to a cardboard stick. She was wearing yellow clown glasses and popping pink bubble gum. She handed the cotton candy down to a gentleman who I could tell was trying to hit on her. To the right, I could hear the dunk tank. Or people at the dunk tank. Whoever was sitting on the stool had not fallen into the water yet. I could hear clunks and clashes as the ball tried to hit the bullseye. There was a lot of laughter. Next to me was an upside-down wine barrel, currently being used as a table for garbage. I started to lean on it as he came closer to the side of my face. I could smell leftover mustard and bourbon. Behind me, there were tents- filled with delicious food like corndogs. Not just any corndogs though, after all, I was at a food event. These were corndogs from one of the top chefs in Seattle. I am sure the meat was not an actual hot dog, but something more spectacular. And the outside layer was probably a special cornmeal batter that the chef made from scratch. It’s hard to imagine a fair filled with legit, delicious, made-from-scratch food. Only foodie events can pick a theme like “circus” and turn it into something just shy of fine dining.
“You know, you didn’t need to introduce yourself to me again.” He whispered in my ear. Or maybe he said it at normal auditory level. It reminded me of a whisper since he was so close to my face. Our cheeks grazed as he pulled away, but he didn’t pull away far. He was extremely close to my face staring at my eyes, waiting for my response. He knew I would have to lean in and talk to his ear- as the vibrating noise around us was like being at a concert.
“We’ve only met once. I assumed you would briefly recognize my face and in a panic forget how you knew me so I re-introduced myself.”
The left side of his lips curled up slightly. He wanted to laugh. Or maybe he wanted to relax, he couldn’t do either. He was very tense. He looked like he wanted to grab me by my triceps and shake me vigorously.
When I first walked through the balloon archway into the parking lot I spotted Gabriel. He was talking to a group of people. We briefly made eye contact and he turned back to his friends. I figured he recognized my face and quickly pushed it aside, knowing we probably would not actually speak to each other. Just past the balloons, a line had formed, which I stood in patiently waiting to waive the badge around my neck to the doorkeeper. My pass was rare- red in color that said “staff” in bold black letters. There were only a handful of these passes roaming around the large weekend food event, Seattle Eats. I secretly liked having this pass. Every time I would approach the entrance attendant they would pause and look at me. They would wonder to themselves how I had a staff pass. They might quickly contemplate the idea that I found it or stole it. The only other people that had staff passes were the select few that ran the entire event and everyone (at least everyone in the food scene) knew who they were. And I was not one of them. No, I wasn’t in charge of the event. But I was in charge of documenting the event. I was one of two staff photographers. They found it easier to give us a staff pass so that there was no question on whether or not we were allowed inside.
And just as in other entrances, the woman scanning the passes paused when I showed her mine. She looked at my face. My face did not register and she looked at the pass again. If I have all my camera gear with me they usually put two and two together and waive me in. My camera was not strapped around my neck, so the attendant looked suspiciously at me. I told her I was one of the staff photographers and that I had the night off. My co-photographer was assigned to this particular party. Anything we were not assigned to we were encouraged to still attend and enjoy ourselves.
The attendant waved me in and told me to have fun. She said I deserved it. I stood still for a moment, taking in the scene before me. There were lights swooping across the black sky from one tent to another. A man on stilts walked by throwing pins into the air. The smells were overwhelming- too many to decipher exactly what I was smelling. I had a quick moment of... not quite panic, that’s too strong of a word. But that feeling where you’ve just entered a huge party and think- I know nobody. I reached for my camera, that wasn’t there. Typically in moments like these, I can hide behind my camera. The moment quickly passed as Nicole walked up to me. She was a food blogger and assisted me on a few shoots in the past. She asked me what events I photographed today and exclaimed how tired I must feel after I told her. When she assisted me on day-long photo shoots she would complain towards the end how tired she was. I knew she wasn’t quite cut out to be a full-time photographer. Blogger suited her just fine. She could bake banana bread, take a nice photo using natural light and post it to Instagram and not have to worry about lugging huge lights into an empty space and build not only a background scene and lighting scheme, but also build a composition using food and props. That was too much for someone like her, but for me, it was my life.
Frank, the other staff photographer, walked up and joined in on our conversation. He asked me the same thing Nicole did. Instead of stating how tired I must feel, he empathized with me and said he couldn’t wait to go to bed.
Frank ventured off to take more photos. Nicole and I started walking towards the bourbon tent. I could finally have a drink. I ordered it neat. It was a new brand of bourbon and I always try new whiskeys without ice first. We were joined by a few other bloggers. They talked non-stop about all the great food they tasted. I was in a daze, not thinking about what I ate, but what I captured as their busy words swarmed around my head. My trance-like-state was interrupted when one of the bloggers shouted at Gabriel, who was walking by with the same group of people I saw earlier.
“Gabe- your pork belly dish was delicious.” She said peering up at him. Gabriel was tall, everyone peered up at him. He thanked her, sounding annoyed. I assume chefs, at this point, are tired of seeing people swoon and are completely over their simplistic compliments. They have heard it all day, have had to smile nod and act cordially to everyone. At the after parties, I am sure they just want to be left alone and drink. I wasn’t going to say anything to Gabriel. And then the blogger asked if Gabriel knew everyone. He said no and quickly looked at all our faces. He was about to say something when a second blogger stuck out her hand and introduced herself. The third followed. And then it was my turn.
“I’m Andrea, one of the staff photographers for the event. I did photos for you...”
“Andrea, you don’t think I remember who you are?” Gabriel asked sounding more annoyed than when the blogger gave him an empty compliment. He cocked his head to one side and gave me an odd look. Like- half hurt, half perplexed. The bloggers giggled. “She’s always this humble, Gabe.” one blogger said. “Your photos were gorgeous by the way, Andrea. Didn’t you think so, Gabe?” she peered at his face, wanting his attention. He was still looking at me. He was pissed.
My memories of the day we spent together slammed into my mind- like a stenographer chucked a stack notes from the day and heaved it at my head. I buried that day with Gabriel away and didn’t think about it again. Well, okay, after about a week of thinking about the day, I then proceeded to bury it. It had been months since I did a day shoot with Gabriel. He won Seattle’s Magazine Chef of the Year and I was assigned to photograph the story. We spent a good six hours together that day, just the two of us. So at the time, it felt intimate. But I didn’t want to assume the chemistry we shared was anything more than a weird photographer-client moment. Those happen from time to time. I sit behind a lens and stare into someone’s life, they are completely exposed and vulnerable. Sometimes they end up sharing their life story with me. Sometimes we laugh and have a good time. Usually, most relax and feel comfortable with me. Sometimes we find things in common and bond over a certain aspect in our lives. Very few times, but it does happen, there is an attraction.
Gabriel turned to the bloggers and said “it was nice to meet you all” and then just walked away. I looked at the bloggers.
“Andrea, you’re so funny. It was just a few months ago that you did that photo shoot with Gabriel, right?” I shook my head yes. “And don’t you spend a lot of time with the chef when you do a shoot like that?” I nodded my head yes. “Why would you think he wouldn’t know who you were? Not to mention it’s not like your some newb off the streets, you’re a very well known food photographer.” I shrugged.
“I didn’t think he wouldn’t recognize my face. I figured he would have one of those ‘oh shit’ moments where you know the person but draw a complete blank of their name or how you know them. So I thought I’d help him out- just take the pressure off. I can’t assume that everyone remembers who I am.” I finally said.
“You are so different than other photographers. They are always so aggressive and arrogant.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said. They laughed and walked away, telling me to drink more bourbon and enjoy the night.
I strolled around the tents, nibbling on the bites, sipping on my whiskey. I thought about Gabriel again and then told myself not to overthink anything. After our photo shoot that is exactly what I did. I dwelled. I pondered. I even pleasured myself thinking about him. And after an absurd week, I shoved it to the deep black corners of my mind where I locked the memory door with a key and didn’t reopen it. I wanted to at least apologize to him. Apologize for reintroducing myself? That sounds strange, but that’s what I wanted to do. I found myself up against the wine barrel table, scanning for his face. And that’s when I saw him walking over to me. I tried to look at the girl in the clown sunglasses and think about cotton candy.
“You know, you didn’t need to introduce yourself to me again.” He whispered in my ear.
“We’ve only met once. I assumed you would briefly recognize my face and in a panic forget how you knew me so I re-introduced myself.” I saw the grin spread on his upper left lip and the aggravation fill his demeanor and added “I apologize. I can be very forgetful with names and so I tend to make it easier on people and just reintroduce myself.”
He leaned in again to my ear. “Andrea.” He moved his hips closer to me. He placed his pointer finger on the back side of my hand and my arms lit up with goosebumps. He waited a few seconds and then said: “Your whole body is covered in goosebumps.” I just stood there feeling the bumps and hairs on my skin rise.
“That pretty much just answered my question.”
“What question was that? “ I asked.
“Girls don’t break out into a sheet of bumps when someone touches the back of their hand for a brief moment... unless there is something there. Some chemistry. Some interest, at least.”
“It’s 80 degrees out.” He looked at my eyes.
“I can’t do this.” I turned. He grabbed my arm by the wrist and pulled.
He rolled his eyes, slumped his shoulders, cocked his head and looked at me again. “Andrea, come on. Humor me at least.”
The circus-themed after party that was held in a parking lot just happened to be Gabriel’s parking lot. Or at least the large parking lot in the back of his restaurant. I followed him around the front, he unlocked the door and we stepped inside. He didn't bother turning on any lights. There were one or two small neon lights glowing somewhere- probably from a computer screen. There was just enough ambient light that when I let my eyes adjust, I could see his face. And he was upset.
“We spent five to six hours together.” He said coldly at first. And then his tone lightened. “Andrea, tell me if I am bat-shit crazy....” he looked down at me.
“You’re not bat-shit crazy,” I said.
“Okay, let me rephrase that then. We spent one hour together. And then we spent four hours together in a completely different way.”
“So it wasn’t just me, then, correct?”
“Correct.” I blushed. He couldn’t see that my face turned hot.
He stood close to me. His broad shoulders hovered above mine. His chin could rest on the top of my head, he was that tall. His arms gently grabbed my elbows. I looked up at him.
“Andrea- that photo shoot blew me away. The first hour was cordial. We smiled. We worked. You didn’t say much. I didn’t say much. And then I relaxed. And you moved my elbow out of your shot once. And we felt it. There was a spark. Shit, it wasn’t a spark it was a damn explosion. From an elbow touch. And everything changed. You laughed more. You flirted. I opened up more. I started to tell you things no one on this planet knows. And I don’t even know why. But I did. We had fun. We were attracted to each other. We bonded. I mean we almost kissed. You know we almost did. I leaned in. You wanted it. And then you walked out the door and left me standing there like a fucking chump.” His body stiffened when he said the last part. Obviously, I had hurt his ego.
“I... “ I didn’t know exactly how to respond. I had those two little people on each of your shoulders screaming at me. One said, “Do the right thing, Andrea.” And the other said “Fuck it, Andrea. Grab him and kiss him.”
I looked up at him and said, “Look. It happens from time to time. There is something about a photographer- when alone with his or her client- that sometimes things get heated. Sometimes you bond. Or other times there is a slight attraction. I’ve had a few times where I’ve become good acquaintances, even kind of friends with my clients. And it was probably just that you felt comfortable with me, and I enjoyed photographing you- and it felt... well more intense at the moment, but in reality, we were just working together.”
His finger touched the back of hand again. I flushed. Bumps scattered across my entire body. “That’s bullshit,” he said as he flung his arm around my back, pulled me to his chest, lifted my chin slightly with his other finger and kissed me. All I could think about was how amazing this felt. It made sense. It felt real. It felt right. There was nothing awkward about it. We didn’t hit teeth or use too much tongue. He relaxed. I relaxed in his arms. And we had an amazing few minutes of perfection.
Suddenly, I pushed him away. “We can’t do this,” I said.
He looked stunned. “Andrea. I’ll call her right now. You can call him right now. And then I will carry you up into my office and this” he motioned between him and myself with his hands, “this can continue. And it can continue until I walk you down an aisle. and it will continue forever.”
Most women, shit, almost all men would be extremely taken back by the thought of a proposal from someone you’ve spent about 6 and a half hours with. But I wasn’t. He wasn’t either. What he said didn’t scare me. He picked up his cell phone and hit one button.
“Kristi. I am deeply, deeply sorry.” He said with a mournful tone. “I will properly talk to you tomorrow morning because I do not want to do this over the phone, but it’s imperative that I do this right now. It’s over. I am breaking up with you. And yes, I will give you a full explanation tomorrow face-to-face.” And then he hung up the phone without hearing her response.
I thought it was harsh but at the same time, he was honest with her. And he is the type of person that would break-up with you face to face, but he simply could not do that. He needed me now, but he wanted to have me with a clear conscious. He looked up at me. It was my turn. He knew it would not be as easy for me. Not because I was more attached to my current boyfriend that he was attached to his girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend now. But he knew that my personality and really just being a woman that it would be harder to be that brutally honest. So he took my hand and he said “It will sting for about five seconds as the words come out. Get it over with, rip the bandaid. And whatever you do- do not listen to the response. You can say exactly what I said- word for word if you like.” I asked him if he had done this many times before. He said no, this was his first. And he said it would be the last time he will ever have to break up with someone.
“How can you be...” he knew what I was going to ask. He knew my last word was going to be “certain.” He interrupted me and simply said, “I know.” And then he paused, looked at me, and added: “And you know too.” And I did. It was the strangest feeling in the world. I knew I was standing next to the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I dialed my phone. I said verbatim exactly what Gabriel said to his ex. And then I hung up the phone.
He interlaced his fingers through mine and led me upstairs to his office. He opened the door to his office and motioned me to walk inside. As I passed him he said, “That was one hell of a photo shoot, Andrea.” He shut the door behind him. “That it was, Gabriel,” I said. And we made love on his desk.
