“Remember what you promised me at Christmas?”
“Yes and now I’m delivering a nice, warm tropical shoot.”
“Not exactly. You’re sending the anti-girl photographer brigade down there with me.”
“Carla’s going.”
“That’s so not enough.”
“But I really need you to do this. What’ll it take? I’ll do anything.”
“Anything? Well then, I want an extra ticket and I better have a very nice room.”
“Fine, extra ticket, no problem.”
I jogged back to my studio and called Nick at the cafe.
“Mochaberry. This is Nick. How may I help you?”
“Baby, what are you doing next week?”
“Working.”
“What are the chances you could get off?”
“Slim to none.”
“Do they increase any if I tell you that you could spend the whole week in Cancun?”
“Cancun? Oh man, maybe I could find someone to cover.”
“Well, I’m headed home now, so once you find out call me.”
I gathered up my stuff and ran out to my car. I drove home and ran up the steps to my apartment. As I put the key in the lock, I heard the phone start ringing inside. I unlocked the door as quickly as possible, dropped all my shit, and ran for the phone.
“Hello?”
“Wyn, I got my sister-in-law to cover for me. She’s worked here before and totally has it down. Between her and the assistant manager, I will be fine. So when do we leave?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll come over in the morning and help you pack.”
“Why don’t you come over tonight?” I grumbled a little but gave in anyway.
“What time do you get off?”
“4 am.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
I had packed the night before, so I was already to go. I ate some dinner, showered, and went to bed. I figured I better get some sleep before I went to Nick’s. I got back up and arrived at Nick at about the same time as he did. We went upstairs and started packing, but ended up fooling around. We slept for a while and then started packing again. It didn’t last much longer this time. Finally, I sent Nick to take a cold shower and I finished packing for him.
We drove back to my place, where the car was supposed to pick us up. Nick fell asleep on the couch and I wrote Erin a short email. The car arrived and took us to the airport. The flight to Cancun was remarkably short. Our room was absolutely gorgeous. I had to go to bed early, because we were scheduled to shoot at dawn the next morning.
Nick came down to the shoot with me the next day. There were four girls all total, Carla, Gracie, Violet, and Rita. Violet and Rita held the same opinion of female photographers that Gracie held, they were also not particularly fond of Carla. The first day of shooting was a mess. Gracie, Violet, and Rita wouldn’t stop complaining, equipment was missing, and one of the assistants got sunstroke. Occasionally, I did glance at Nick long enough to notice that he seemed to be enjoying himself.
That night Nick, Carla, and I partied hard at a nearby club. Nick had one too many tequila shots, and admitted to me that it had always been a fantasy of his to have a threesome. Now I had never told Nick about the whole bisexual thing. Not deliberately or anything, but it’s not something you can easily slip into normal conversation. I looked at Carla and had a brilliant idea.
Nick is so straight-laced, it would do him good to cut loose a little. I knew Carla wouldn’t mind in the least, but I’d explain it to her before hand anyway. This would be something I could give to Nick, just this once. Of course, I thought about the ways it could backfire, but we were in Cancun. Cancun was like a different world, a different time. What we did here would have no affect on our lives back in California.
The next morning the shoot went much better, with the exception of a few hangovers. Over lunch I asked Carla if she’d like to be in on my present for Nick, she was totally up for it. Later that night, before Carla was supposed to show up , I broached the subject with Nick.
“Baby, remember what we were talking about last night?”
“Vaguely at best.”
“About how it had always been one of your fantasies to have a threesome?”
“I said that. Oh shit, I didn’t...”
“No, no, no, it’s okay. I want to as well. I asked Carla to come over, if you’re up to it.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to. Just this once. Just while we’re in a different time and a different place.”
“You’re sure?”
“Definitely.”
Carla arrived a little bit later. It was slow and weird at first, but after a couple of glasses of wine and everything was fine. We had a lot of fun and Carla went back to her room the next morning. We didn’t mention that night for the rest of our trip, but in our way home Nick brought it up just once.
“Thank you, Wynter.” I just smiled and leaned into him. When we got back to my place Nick went to take a shower and I went to get some orange juice. I poured a glass and went to the table where my answering machine was blinking incessantly. I pushed play and took a sip of my orange juice.
“You have five messages.”
“Wynter, honey, are you there? It’s your mom. Oh jesus, where are you? Wynter, it’s an emergency, call me as soon as you get this.” The message was from the day before.
“Wynter, it’s me again. Where are you? Please call.”
“Oh jesus, Wynter, where could you have gone? Call me.”
“Wynter, pick up the phone, please.”
“All right, Wynter. I hate to tell this to your machine, but here goes. Grandpa had a stroke, honey, and he’s at the hospital. It doesn’t look good. Call me please.”
The last message was from this morning. The phone started ringing suddenly, and I picked up.
“Heh... hello?”
“Wynter, thank god you’re home.”
“Mom?”
“Your grandfather passed about fifteen minutes ago.” I dropped my glass and it shattered all over the floor. “He was just too weak. His body couldn’t take the stress. I could hear the tears in her voice. “Can you come out, honey?”
“Yes.”
“I have to go now, but call me when you have plans.” Nick came into the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel, just as I hung up the phone.
“What happened? I heard something crash. Are you okay? Wynter, what’s wrong?”
“My grandpa...” I trailed off, looking at the ground. I saw chunks of glass and orange juice splattered everywhere.
“What about your grandpa?”
“I broke a glass.”
“What’s going on?” I looked up at Nick, standing in the doorway dripping on the floor. He looked so cute.
“My grandpa had a stroke and he, he died.”
“Oh baby, come here.” I walked over to Nick and he hugged. “Here, let’s take you to the couch.” He let go of me and went to move.
“I have juice all over my shoes.”
“Here,” he bent over, untied my shoes, and took them off. He led me over to the couch and sat me down. He went back into the bedroom and came back dressed. He went into the kitchen and got out the mop. I laid down on the couch and curled up into fetal position.
It had only been four months since I had lost grandma. Mom had told me that he hadn’t been the same since grandma died. She said he was consumed with loneliness. All he ever talked about was how soon he was going to be with grandma again. Mom was afraid he was suicidal.
“Wynter, do you want me to call an airline?”
“Yeah.”
Nick went back into my bedroom and I heard him pacing and mumbling. He walked back out a couple of minutes later. He sat down on the floor next to the couch and ran his fingers through my hair.
“I got a ticket for later tonight. You’ve got about six hours.”
“Just enough time to unpack, do laundry, and pack it all again.” I sighed, got up, and wiped my eyes.
“Are you okay? I mean, you seam so eerily calm.”
“There are things to be done right now. There will be time to break down later.”
“Wynter, you know, that’s probably not a good...”
“Nick, I really don’t want to about this.”
“...idea,” he whispered.
I went back to my bags on the bed, gathered what I needed, and went down to do a load of laundry.
I finished my laundry, packed, and left with Nick. All the way back to Colorado, all I could think about was how I was losing my life. Everything that I had known and loved was leaving me. First Ivy, then the way my mom used to be (although that wasn’t a bad thing), then John, then Ally and Erin and Tarin, then Grandma, and now Grandpa. I had nothing left. If we are defined by the people we love and those who love us, then who am I now?
Mom met me at the airport, with a man I had never seen before.
“Wynter, honey,” she hugged me.
“Hi mom.”
“I know this is the worst time and I meant to tell you earlier, but everything happened so suddenly and I...”
“Mom, you’re rambling.”
“Oh right. Wynter, this is Thomas, my, um, boyfriend. Thomas, this is Wynter, my daughter.”
“I’ve heard so much about you,” he said, taking my hand.
“Nice to meet you.” So now my mom was dating. I didn’t know how I felt about this, but I did know that I didn’t want to think about it just then. We went and got my bags, and headed home.
Mom had arranged the funeral entirely, so I didn’t have to do anything. The funeral was all set for the next day, with a potluck at mom’s afterward.
“Do you want me to make potato salad, lemon bars, and chesscake?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I already cut and boiled the potatoes for you. I would do it myself but everyone always likes your stuff so much better.” Mom was rambling again, she always does that when she’s nervous, or drunk. “So, honey, where were you the last couple of days?”
“On a shoot in Cancun.”
“Wynter is a photographer,” Mom explained to Thomas.
“Oh, Cancun must be lovely,” Thomas said.
“It is for the most part.”
“Who do you work for?”
“Playboy.” There was that uncomfortable pause that always follows me telling someone where I work.
“How interesting,” Thomas mumbled. I had decided a long time ago not to hold people’s opinions of my job against them. This went for Thomas as well.
The next day after the funeral everyone pretty much ignored me except for two distant, teenage cousins, who kept looking my way and laughing. Who knows, maybe they were fans.
I flew back to California feeling very alone and very dissatisfied with everything. I didn’t even call Nick to pick me up from the airport. Even though I felt very alone, I didn’t want to be around Nick just then. I managed to avoid Nick for an entire week. He came back into my life like nothing had changed.
I was feeling this cold indifference towards everything, including my work. I was beginning to think that Playboy wasn’t the right place for me anymore. Other job offers had been pouring in for months. I had also been doing the occasional freelance job for Rolling Stone, which paid amazingly.
I started calling back on the job offers, but asking about freelance work instead. Quite a few magazines showed interest in adding me to their list of freelance photographers. It was time for another change, this is what I needed. I put in notice at Playboy, and scheduled several shoots with new magazines.
Apparently it was time for a change in Nick’s life too, only I hadn’t noticed. I had been so wrapped up in figuring out why I felt so dissatisfied, that I wasn’t paying any attention to Nick. In fact, I had missed him doting on me constantly and that he seemed more affectionate than usual.
One night about a month after my grandpa’s funeral he asked me to a very expensive dinner. I thought we were going out to celebrate my career change. I put on my black velvet, ankle-length skirt, my dark red silk, sleeve-less shirt, and my brand new, black lace wrap (that I had bought to congratulate myself on the job change). We were having a wonderful dinner, until dessert arrived. I was about to take a bite of my cheesecake, when he stopped me.
“Wynter, I have something very important to ask you.”
“Um, okay.” Nick got out of his chair and down on one knee next to me. “Oh jesus, Nick, you shouldn’t...”
“Wynter, will you marry me?” He opened a small box that had a perfect, square cut, diamond set in gold, nestled inside. Even John had known my tastes better than that. John’s ring was perfect, all too perfect. Nick’s ring was sweet, but all too Nick.
“Oh Nick, I,” I hesitated. “I can’t.” Nick looked up at me in shock. I suddenly felt the whole restaurant staring at us. I stood and rushed out of the restaurant. I needed fresh air, I felt faint. Nick followed a few minutes later.
“Why not?”
“I’m not the marrying type, Nick.”
“What, you don’t believe in monogamy?”
“I believe in love, I don’t believe in marriage. It’s a ridiculous, antiquated, unnecessary ritual.”
“But I love you. I’m ready to settle down and have kids.”
“And I’m not and I probably never will be.”
“You don’t know that, Wynter. It could be bliss.”
“It’s not my idea of bliss.”
“What is your idea of bliss?”
“It doesn’t matter what my idea of bliss is or isn’t. What matters is that I can’t give you your idea of bliss. I won’t marry you Nick because it will only make me miserable, which in turn will make you miserable.”
“We could stay together and given time maybe your feelings will change.” I could see where this was going. Nick would never give up on this whole marriage thing and I would constantly be angry with him for it. The only way to make Nick give this up would be to hurt him. Sadly, the best way to hurt him would be to tell him the truth.
“Nick, I wouldn’t marry John and I loved him. What makes you think I’ll ever marry you?”
Nick looked so hurt, it almost broke my heart. He turned, walked to his car, and left my life forever. We were both better off for it.