Picture Perfect

my third story

Generally speaking, I’m not the most extroverted. I don’t come alive when I walk into a room full of strangers. I have anxiety. My palms sweat and my mind races. You can keep your societal interactions. Just give me the cool feel of the aluminum body of my Canon A-1 SLR.

I slow my breathing as I bring the camera to my eye and focus the lens. The world is calm now. Measurable. I adjust the isolation, refocus once more and snap! The little cafe sits, frozen in time, its patrons immune to the hurts and dangers of the obscure outside world. Safe.

Truth be told, I much preferred life behind the lens. I was quite content observing, recording life. It was better that way. People don’t notice the photographer. They simply pass by, oblivious participants in life’s big scheme and my feeble attempts to document it. There I sat, every morning at the corner of Elm and Chestnut from precisely 6:30 to 9:00 AM watching commuters across the street make their way inside the doors of Café Ventura. Many would rush inside and exit minutes later unchanged save for the cappuccinos and lattes they now held preciously in their hands. Still others would stroll leisurely inside in pairs emerging after some time to sit on the front patio to sip their frothy beverages and engage in heated discussions of current events.

I was doing a series of photographs to be featured in a local Austin show. For weeks I sat a spectator, invisible. One morning, nearing 8:45, as I was glancing through my camera at a group of well-groomed business executives poring over financial reports of some kind during their morning coffee, movement caught my eye. A woman was beginning to stand. She appeared young and wore a deep green autumn dress that seemed to make her light red hair shine like fire. She was absolutely beautiful, and she was staring straight at me.

I gripped my camera tightly and zoomed closely in on the orange paisley tie of the senior accountant, as she began to make her way over to me. I was determined to appear deeply engaged with my work, and redoubled my efforts to soothe my nerves and stabilize the shot. I squinted my eyes and lightly depressed the shutter button when I heard a soft “Hey” from some footsteps fast approaching.

“Hey!” she shouted, louder this time as she brought her hand up into an awkward wave.

I nodded once, before glancing back into the window of my Canon.
“I see you here, every morning,” she chuckled. “Just sitting, taking pictures. But you never come over. So I wanted to come say hi… I’m Lilly”
“Uh, hi. Jonah.. I’m Jonah.” I responded quickly, my heart beginning to pound rapidly underneath my loose cotton shirt.

“Well, hi. I just thought I’d say hello. I mean, I see you all the time.” she said quickly, beginning to notice the growing anxiety on my face. And with that she smiled and turned away, beginning to make her way back across the sleeping street.

I packed my equipment quickly and was gone before she had returned to her coffee.

“That will be two seventy-three,” the barista said from behind the counter. I glanced around as I pulled a wad of bills from my pocket. Odd, the cafe looked much different than I had imagined. Art made by young, inexperienced artists decorated the walls and an old phonograph player blared the Beatles’ first album. I pushed on the old glass doors leading to the outside and found a seat at a small table near the edge of the patio. I glanced at my watch nervously. “8:20. She will be here soon,” I thought.

I looked up to see her approaching from the parking lot. A small smile spread across her face, and for the first time I was glad not to be on the outside looking in.