“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” I can hear her irritation in her tone and know I need to smooth the feathers I’ve just ruffled.
“I meant, can we keep the picture taking of local interest things to a minimum, please? And at the least, can you warn me if you ask Sarge or Rosco for permission on an embed so that I can go with you?”
“Seriously? Now you’re going to tell me how to do my job?” She starts to sit up, but I reach out and put my arm on her biceps to prevent her from pulling away.
“I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, nor do I think I’m being unreasonable… I just…” My voice trails off as I attempt to figure out how to say what I need to say without implying anything else. She’s a woman, and women infer things, and not always the right things, so I take a moment to choose my words correctly. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you. If I can at least be with you when you wander, then I’ll feel better about it, I guess.” And it’s stupid really, like I’d be able to protect her from the shit that’s out there, but it’s a guy thing. Protect at all costs.
She just stares long and hard at me before finally speaking. “I’m not going to promise anything other than I’ll try to keep you informed.”
It’s not exactly the answer I was hoping for, but at least it’s better than her telling me to go to hell, which was what I expected. I nod in cautious acceptance because I don’t have a leg to stand on after witnessing how incredible the shots she got yesterday were. “What exactly is it that you’re looking for when you take the pictures? What is it that calls to you?” She leaves in the middle of the night to take photos, she braves a war zone to get shots, and I want to understand why so that maybe I’ll get to know her better.
“Life.” She answers in such a matter-of-fact way, but her eyes have a daydream quality to them that reminds me of when I first started this career and felt the same exact way. And I still love my job, still am consumed by it, but it’s that fresh-faced wonderment that I see in her eyes that makes me hold off on telling her it’s going to change. I should let her enjoy this period.
So long as it doesn’t get her killed.
“What about life in particular?”
“I enjoy watching people, documenting their lives, seeing the things that others don’t see in the looks in their eyes and lines of their faces.”
“And you’re good at it – your eye is exceptional, but let’s try to keep it to a minimum, please,” I tell her. “Life is harsh here and dangerous, and you never know who is or isn’t your friend, so I’d prefer —”
She stops my brotherly speech by pressing her lips to mine. I resist at first, try to talk through her sensory onslaught, but after she keeps at it, her lips vibrating against mine from her laughter, I allow myself to slip into the kiss. And it’s the farthest thing from a hardship, to let her pull me so handily from everything outside of these hotel walls with a single kiss. Damn does it feel good.
There were so many other things I wanted to say to her, so many questions I wanted answered about where she goes at night and how in the hell she plans on defending herself if she’s scared at the sight of a gun. So how does this singular woman make me lose my need-to-know attitude that I’ve built a career and a reputation on? It’s almost as if I’m blinded by her – and that’s never a comfortable place to be when you’ve lived your life trying to see for everyone else.
And yet, I’m completely content with it.