“Where is he?”
“He’s gone to the mountains.”
“Oh, I see. Did he have another vision?” Of us?
Derrick flashed an irritated look. “A vision!” He drummed his fingers on the counter. “If you really need to know, he went up there to think! You really messed him up. He can’t even sleep at night. He’s gone to the mountain to get some peace, think things over—start a new life.” He hung several necklaces on a rack, and then turned to her. “I don’t think this new life will involve you.”
A bomb went off inside her, shattering her insides along with any hope for forgiveness. Her words came slowly. “Can…you tell him something for me?”
“Maybe.”
“Can you tell him I love him?”
“Do you? It seems hard to believe after what you put us through.”
“Can you just tell him?” Before she heard his answer, she rushed through the door and into the taxi. Soon, New Mexico would be a blur, and thankfully so.
As the train passed mountains, she wondered which one Darrius was on. To stop herself from having a crying fit, she kissed the bracelet and thanked God for it. She at least had it to remind her that she once had love in her life.
* * *
“Ms. Paretti, your packages arrived from New Mexico. I wasn’t sure if you would have wanted me to open your loft and put them in, but I took a chance. I left everything else as is. Hope you don’t mind.”
She smiled thankfully at her landlord. “That’s fine. I’m glad someone still cares enough about me. Thanks.”
Her landlord looked at her with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Not really, David, but I suppose one day I will be—again.”
That was definitely an indication she and Darrius were finished. Something so sweet had suddenly turned so bitter, and just hearing about Darrius sending her things along had made her stomach instantly sick.
Yes, this failed relationship was definitely of her own doing.
As a diversion, she unpacked the box labeled ‘Kachinas’ and pulled out her Koshari, admiring it, touching the tasseled hat. Images of Darrius dancing the clown dance immediately popped up, and her first smile in days appeared when she remembered how well he danced, how he made her feel that night—and the awesome love they made after returning to his home. Then the smile faded and she placed the Koshari on a shelf in her living room. There was another item in the box. Justine reached inside and carefully pulled out the Crow Mother kachina. She definitely did not remember buying it, but remembered Darrius saying he would take her to buy one. She couldn’t help but smile as she held the doll, feeling its smooth wood finish. The designs painted onto the doll were so intricate, with long jagged edged ears and a foxtail circling the neck. It was a marvelous piece that easily cost six or seven hundred dollars.
She placed the doll near the Koshari, seeing it as a sign that Darrius still loved her enough to spend that kind of money to make her happy; only she didn’t need expensive things to make her feel loved by him.
Knowing she would never feel his arms around her again suddenly made her want to put both dolls away, along with the bracelet, T-shirts and any other part of the Southwest she had collected. They served to remind her of what it had cost her.
She resisted the impulse to hide everything, picking up her camera instead. One corner was damaged, but Darrius had done a great job cleaning and repairing it. She was just thankful he was able to retrieve it. Many a wonderful picture had been taken with that camera, along with her others. Funny thing, she had almost taken her other camera with her to Red Rock that day; the one where film had to be exposed in a dark room. What would Darrius have seen then? Everything he asked her not to photograph because she shouldn’t have been on that side of the park anyway. Then she thought about it. He may have downloaded the images inside this camera. He would have seen everything.
That gave her an idea—something that would possibly take her mind off Darrius, at least temporarily. Film was still inside her other camera, and she immediately went to her makeshift darkroom to develop them. Being in the dark reminded her of the first time Darrius kissed her, how his fingers slid up her blouse, caressing her skin. She shook the thought away, not wanting to recall the memory of something that would never happen again.
Minutes later, Justine hung pictures of the desert flowers atop Red Rock, the few cottonwood trees and the red mountain ranges. There was nothing of the ruins. She didn’t even know where they were, and hadn’t planned to look. Her mission had been to take great photographs and to take her curiosity to new levels by trying to see as much as possible. Whether or not that was accomplished was another story. She had slipped down slabs of sandstone, almost ending her life—all for the sake of a few personal shots. Stupid! Also, she had ignored Darrius’s warnings, had not trusted his word. Trust was very important to him, as it should be in any relationship.
She stepped back and admired the pictures, letting them take her back to a place where she had been truly happy, at least for a week. She unpacked another box and took out her personal pictures of the powwow, the day and night parade, and the hills behind Darrius’s house. Maybe the beauty of the photographs would soften her boss’s anger. Yes, her boss knew of her accident, but he was a hard-nose and wanted his stuff in on time. Justine looked at the small calendar hanging on the wall. The timing was still good, because the edition wasn’t due to print for another three days. That was the only thing that could possibly save her butt—and her job.
23
MISSING HIM
September 10
The powwow edition of The Examiner came out on Justine’s birthday. It had been her only perk since returning home a month ago. She had tried her best not to think of Darrius, her trip or anything remotely related to New Mexico. She buried herself in work, taking on new assignments no matter how menial. Earlier that day, she did her usual volunteer work at the boys club. Working with the children always made her feel better. However, working with the Native American boys that day only reminded her of Darrius. One boy, Sanchez, even looked like a ten-year-old version of Darrius, and working with him made matters worse. Sanchez had always been her favorite student; he was so willing to learn photography and angle shots. He saw the pain in her eyes that day.
“Are you okay, Ms. Paretti?”
She smiled into his innocent face and mussed his thick, dark hair. “Just not one of my better days, Sanchez.”
He handed her a fabric flower he had been holding behind his back. “I made this for you in arts and crafts today. You like it?”
Taking the flower, she smiled and said, “It’s beautiful, Sanchez, and guess what? Today is my birthday. A woman loves flowers on her birthday.” She kissed the top of his head, and started her lesson as the other children slowly filed in.
* * *
When she walked into the office at work, she found the new edition of The Examiner on her desk and the memories seemed to flood her, like an awakening. For once, it was refreshing to see a picture of a native sky, the true blueness of it, the richness and serenity of it. Unlike a San Francisco sky and its fog, the photograph she’d taken of an early Gallup morning made her smile. One of her main pictures graced the cover—the banner and entrance of the Day parade.
She thumbed through until she found the reddish-brown cliffs. They were her photographs of Red Rock State Park. It had taken her until now to actually think fondly of the place. What had taken longer was not persecuting herself over what had transpired there. In the back of her mind, Red Rock represented why she and her lover were a no-go, but she had gotten used to the reality of it, had accepted the fact that love was gone. Now it was time to move on, take pride in her work, accept kudos from coworkers on a job well done and make her photos of New Mexico something people would remember. As she looked at the photos, pleased at how good they were, she thought of the man who was probably still somewhere in the mountains, grappling with the betrayal of a lover.
As she put the newspaper down, her boss came in with a bouquet of yellow and desert-sand sprayed flowers. His smile, something that hardly saw the light of day, seemed to brighten the room. Finally, he had gotten over the fact that one of his best photojournalists almost died for the cause. However, she would never reveal what her true cause had been after meeting Darrius Red Sky.
“Love the photo spread, Justine. Love it! This is by far our best piece on the Southwest in the paper’s history. Sure, you had a little stumble, but we pulled through, right?”
She looked at him. A little stumble? I almost fell from a damn cliff! “Yes, I was just looking through it. Quite a beautiful layout, too, if I do say so myself. I really captured the flavor of the area, those beautiful hills, mountains in the distance, the quietness of the early mornings. What did you like most about the photographs, the powwows?”
“Actually, I like the pictures of you helping out at the mission schools. Never knew you liked kids so much.”
“You never asked. I’ve always loved children, and when I can help them, I do. I always donate money to mission schools, St. Jude’s Hospital—any institution or program that helps children. You should know that about me by now. I’ve only worked for you for three years.”
