“I would. He sent you out to work and he collected, right?”
“He helped me, Zinnie. I have to say that. He got me lots of clients and he can be very charming. He kept things running smoothly on the shoots.”
“Like I said. A pimp. What are you defending him for, huh? So you wised up and got him out of your life. Next?”
“You’re funny. You really are a cop, aren’t you? Okay. I thought I’d start all over, you know? Back to go. I’ve been trying to get a book together for years. Only my best stuff. When I came home I started looking around me. Zinnie, the Himalayas are magical, but this is real life. This place is a photographer’s dream.”
“I get the idea. Real life is what you photograph after you’ve photographed all the dreams. But you don’t wanna go along even on a day tour with me. And how are you going to support yourself while you’re being artsy-craftsy?”
“I’ve got enough money saved to pay Mom and Pop rent, and I thought I’d ask Mom if I could make a small darkroom down in the cellar.”
“In all that junk?”
“I only need a sink and darkness, Zinnie, not atmosphere.”
“So make a darkroom. Maybe you’ll meet some nice guy in Manhattan when you try and sell your pictures.”
Vexed, Claire rummaged through a little bin of blueberries. “I don’t want to meet anybody,” she said. “I want to stay around here and shoot pictures that tell stories without words. I want to shoot anything I well please and not what some art director thinks will sell.”
“And the first time you hear someone mention they’re going to clean up Michael’s grave … you’ll hightail it off to some ashram and not come back for another ten years.”
Claire shook her head slowly. “No, Zin. I came to terms with Michael’s death a long time ago. I carry it always, in my heart, like you do. New York doesn’t bring me any closer to it.”
Zinnie, angry and embarrassed by her own emotion, blurted, “It’s New Yawk, jerk! This ain’t no David Niven film.”
They laughed together at themselves, relieved not to speak about Michael. Zinnie sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe this is a David Niven film and I’m the one going off the deep end.”
Impulsively, Claire threw her arms around Zinnie and held her. “Of all of us, I think you’re the one who’s the most together.”
“That’s not saying a hell of a lot,” Zinnie smiled.
“You’ll be just fine,” Claire said. “Although I’ll never understand how you can be a cop. You’re so beautiful and smart. You did so well in college. Why don’t you go to law school?”
“I don’t want to, Claire,” Zinnie pulled away. “You’re not the only one who loves what she’s doing, you know.”
“I know. Those aren’t the reasons why I don’t want you to be a cop, anyhow.”
They watched each other carefully, each checking the other one out for emotional scars from Michael’s death. Claire knew that a good part of Zinnie’s joining the force had been because of him. She hoped there had not been too much revenge in her reasoning. Zinnie, on the other hand, remembered just how devastated Claire had been at the time. She wondered how difficult it was for Claire to watch her go out the door with a gun. Whatever she felt, that pain would always be there between them as a bond, and there was nothing either of them could, or wanted, to do about it.
Zinnie touched Claire’s hair. “What about you? You wanna come out with me tonight? Do a little trip the light fandango up at Regents Row?”
“Me? Oh, no, thanks. I’ve had it with men.”
“Is that right? And how do you expect to hold them off, eh?”
“Don’t you worry about me. I’ve got castration toxins leaking out of my eyeballs.”
“I’ll bet,” Zinnie sneered.
“Anyway, I’ve got no time. I want to finish my black-and-white series as soon as possible. The colors around here are just too tempting in this season. Look at the dog! He’s playing catch all by himself! Look!”