Behind His Lens(31)

Her sly smile tells me she’s pushed away those sad feelings and is trying to turn her mood around. Another time I hope she’ll open up to me about them instead.

I chuckle, “No. My dad is a big Beatles fan.” I smile, thinking of my parents.

She laughs, a soft, carefree laugh and my heart constrains as if she has a direct grip on it. “That’s awesome! He picked a great song.”

I nod, “Yeah. I like the lyrics.”

Her question brings me back to a memory of my dad, and for some reason I find myself starting to share it with her. “My dad plays the guitar,” I seesaw my hand, “somewhat. Anyway, on Saturday mornings, when my brother and I were really little, he’d wake up early and make us eggs and bacon and then grab his guitar. Man, we hated him so much at the time. But he’d kick open our doors and strum that acoustic guitar, breaking out into a choppy version of ‘Here Comes The Sun’.” I glance up to find her blue eyes focused intently on me. She smiles and nods for me to continue.

“It didn’t matter how many times he played that song, he never seemed to get it completely right. Some cord or another would always be off. He’d sing the lyrics obnoxiously loud, never stopping to fix his mistakes.”

“My brother and I would protest more and more as we got older, saying we needed our sleep, and I can’t remember when, but he eventually stopped playing it for us.” I nod at my coffee and take a sip. “It’s one of my favorite memories from my childhood.”

“Do you think he knows that?” Her voice sounds like a soft melody.

I glance up and slide my hand across my dark stubble, “Y'know, I’m not sure.”

She glances into the air, thinking for a moment, before her eyes light up, “You should buy him the sheet music sometime… maybe he’d connect the dots without you having to jeopardize your masculinity.”

I offer her genuine smile. “That’s a good idea. My dad is not the mushy type.”

“Is he in New York?”

“Nah. Both of my parents and my brother still live in Boston. My parents bought a house in the suburbs almost thirty years ago and they still live there.”

“Thirty years!” She twists her long hair through her fingers and pushes it over her shoulder, exposing her elegant neck. “That’s crazy!”

I shrug, realizing thirty years with Charley doesn’t seem like it’d be enough. “They’re old school. My father was a police officer until he retired and my brother’s still with the force.”

“Is your mom retired as well?”

“She taught second grade until she had my brother and me. Then I think my dad referred to her full time job as ‘nagging him’.”

She throws her head back and laughs and I find myself chuckling along with her because the sound is infectious and addicting.

“He loves her though. My father completely adores the ground my mother walks on.”

She nods her head, looking off in the distance. “That’s so sweet. They sound great.”

I remember her talking about her mom’s drinking problem, so I stick to neutral territory. “What about you? Did you grow up on the island?”

“Born and bred,” she says with a wide smile. “I love this city.”

“Did you grow up in Greenwich Village?”

Her eyes cloud over for a moment. “Nope. I lived on the Upper West Side until I went to Columbia and moved in with Naomi.”

“That’s where you guys met?”

“My first day on campus.” She smiles in recollection. “They paired us as roommates because we were both in the Finance program, but when she found out I was actually in Fine Arts, she flipped and threatened to swap.” She laughs, “She thought I was going to be some crazy hippie, doing drugs in the dorm and stuff.” She grins and glances up at me from under her lashes conspiratorially. “Let’s just say that I wasn’t the one who partied the hardest that year.”

I laugh, not surprised by her revelation. “I like Naomi. I think Bennett has completely fallen for her.”

She leans back in the arm chair, kicks off her boots, and tucks her socked feet up under her legs. The gesture seems so endearing, but I can’t figure out why. Maybe because she would only do it if she was beginning to feel comfortable around me?

“Yeah. She seems pretty smitten with him too.”

“Poor saps.” I wink, and she rewards me with a bright, dimpled smile.