Behind His Lens(75)

“After I’d thought about it for days, one morning I packed an extra protein bar and some bread in my camera bag. I went to the village center to find him like I did every morning. He’d picked up a few words of English and he would ask me my name and if I had a ‘family in America’. He asked me that every day, and every day I’d say no and keep walking. That morning, I told him to follow me over to a side alley. I had to pull him away; there were too many people starving, not just these orphans, but the entire village. The UN was trying to send aid, but it wasn’t getting to these small villages fast enough.”

“I gave him the food and he started crying. He tore into the bread as quickly as he could. But I couldn’t stay; I’d already been gone from my crew for too long.”

With slow movements, I crawl off the bed and wrap my arms around him, not knowing what else to do. I want to reach in and take away every ounce of sadness; wipe him completely clean. He doesn’t deserve to feel any of this.

“I should have f*cking stayed. I’ll regret leaving him with that food for the rest of my life.” His sob breaks through the room, and I feel his heart beating wildly against my ear.

“Jude, you fed him. He was so hungry and you gave him food.”

I feel his head shake above me. “They found him. A group of teenagers found him with the food, and they tried to steal it. The other orphaned boys saw it happening. They said he wouldn’t give it up and they beat him. They killed him to get that f*cking protein bar. Because I couldn’t just do my job and stay the f*ck away, Ali died.”

“No! Jude!” I pull back to look into his eyes, but his gaze is focused on the bed just over my head. “If you didn’t feed him, he would have died anyway. You did the right thing, Jude.” I know my words fall on deaf ears. It’s like I’m looking at him through a two-way mirror; he’s so far away, but I can see every emotion etched across his beautifully sad features. He hasn’t forgiven himself and nothing I say will get through to him now.

“It doesn’t matter, Charley. Even if there was no Ali, the war changes everyone. I watched soldiers, coworkers, and civilians get injured or die every day. It wears you down. Having to constantly be on watch turns your body into a bundle of nerves. They diagnosed me with post-traumatic stress disorder when I got back and I went to therapy for a while. But even therapists can’t quite grapple with the trauma. Soldiers have a mission: to eliminate the enemy. They have their own set of difficulties, and I can’t image what it would feel like to kill someone. But the lines are blurred for journalists and photographers. We have to get close, too close to the tragedies. The closer we get, the better our photos, and the more f*cked up we become.”

He shakes out of my tight grasp and steps away to take a few calming breaths. “Now I’ve just come to live with the night terrors. They’ve lessened over the years. And the more I fill my life with meaningless photography jobs, the less I have to think about what happened over there.”

“That’s why you never dated.”

He shrugs. “It wasn’t a conscious decision. It fell into place. Girls were a means to an end. I’d learned how to compartmentalize every demon when I was in Iraq and it seemed easier to keep everyone at bay.”

“I’m glad you let Bennett in.”

He nods and I see his features starting to relax. “Bennett has been my friend since we were kids. He knew me before I went overseas and he could see how much it changed me. I’ve talked about it with my family briefly as well. Other than that I’ve just learned to live with it.”

“Jude. I’m so sorry.” Those are the only words I can say. Everything else that springs to mind seems cliché and trite.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m alive and I truly enjoy most parts of my life. Ali is dead and that knowledge will forever haunt me.”

We sit in a long period of silence. The kind of silence that wraps around your body and freezes you in place as you try to process the intricacies of the world we live in.

I tuck my head under his chin and wrap my arms around his chest. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I’m glad I did. I want us to be honest with each other, Charley.”

I close my eyes, inhaling his scent and pretending I didn’t hear his last sentence.


“Let’s go to bed, Jude.”

“No,” he demands, his grip tightening around my waist. “I don’t want to go to bed. I want to be with you. I want to feel you moving under me. After everything that’s happened, you make me feel alive, like the last four years don’t have to be what the rest of my life looks like.”