wasn’t the kind of photography I normally do, but I agreed to come and take a look. Seeing her now brought back memories I hadn’t thought of in years. “Wow! Look at you.” I held her at arm’s length. “Sydney Deagan all grown up.”
Her face was soft and warm. Her smile genuine. And there was a hint of pride in her voice. “On my own with responsibilities and everything just like a real adult.” Her laugh was the same squeaky laugh she’d had as a little girl. It gave me chills back then and it gave me chills that day. My thoughts were momentarily disoriented as I relived a few laughs from the old days. Finally, I spoke.
“ You really look great, Sydney.”
“ So do you, Richard. I see you every once in a while around town. You haven’t changed much.”
“ Well, you certainly have. The last time I saw you, you were swinging on a rope in your mom’s back yard.”
“ No, the last time you saw me I was dancing in a recital. You were there with Jewell and later that night she broke up with you.”
A pain shot through the back of my head. Jewell and I weren’t actually going steady, but it still hurt to be told that they’d rather date someone else. “Yes, I think you’re right. That was the last time I remember seeing either of you.”
“ She came home and told everyone about it and I stayed awake all night crying. I think I had a bigger crush on you than she did.”
“ You probably did.” I felt strangely weak and off-balance. My pulse was running wild. I needed to sit. I drew a deep breath and looked around. “So, what’s it been? Fourteen years?”
“ Yes. Hard to believe, isn’t it? I heard about Martha’s accident. How’s she doing?”
“ She’s…coping well. You know Martha. Nothing’s going to hold her down for long.” We gazed at each other evaluating each other’s faces for a moment. She had definitely inherited all the beauty in her family. “So, why don’t we take a look at the photography you’ve been getting and let me see if I can do any better?”
We stepped into her office where hundreds of photographs were stacked on her desk. I’d spent enough time in New York to know the difference between a beautiful, powerful image and one that lacked good lighting, lines, and composition. A few of them were artistic, even stunning. The majority, though, were atrocious and amateurish. I knew I could do better than that.
I asked her to show me where she wanted me to set up and followed her to a room with a door marked STUDIO B. It was forty-by-fifty foot with a rack of stereo equipment in a far corner, a mirrored wall along the right side, and ballet barres around the other three walls.
“ It needs to be a really large background,” she said.
“ No problem.”
“ Like thirty feet wide.”
“ Fine.”
She didn’t look convinced, but accepted my word. “Good. Can we put it over there?” I noticed she wasn’t wearing any kind of wedding or engagement ring when she raised her hand to point.
“ Sure. I can attach it to the ceiling, and ”
“ The ceiling?” she interrupted. “How are you going to do that? It’s a drop ceiling acoustical.”
“ It’ll hold it. I do it all the time. Even bigger.”
“ It was very expensive.”
Her persistence amused me. “It’ll be fine, Sydney. I promise.” Our eyes locked and something passed between us. Soul to soul. Trust, maybe, but something powerful. When she called me on the phone, she’d told me about all the problems she’d had with other photographers. Backgrounds that were too small, eyes that were shut, feet cut off in the photos, poor lighting, under-exposed negatives, and bad attitudes. The last one had even failed to deliver all the photographs that had been ordered and paid for.
Then she told me how badly she needed good photography for her advertising, brochures, and website and how much she liked my work. She said she’d thought of calling me many times, but didn’t think I’d do it
Her face was soft and warm. Her smile genuine. And there was a hint of pride in her voice. “On my own with responsibilities and everything just like a real adult.” Her laugh was the same squeaky laugh she’d had as a little girl. It gave me chills back then and it gave me chills that day. My thoughts were momentarily disoriented as I relived a few laughs from the old days. Finally, I spoke.
“ You really look great, Sydney.”
“ So do you, Richard. I see you every once in a while around town. You haven’t changed much.”
“ Well, you certainly have. The last time I saw you, you were swinging on a rope in your mom’s back yard.”
“ No, the last time you saw me I was dancing in a recital. You were there with Jewell and later that night she broke up with you.”
A pain shot through the back of my head. Jewell and I weren’t actually going steady, but it still hurt to be told that they’d rather date someone else. “Yes, I think you’re right. That was the last time I remember seeing either of you.”
“ She came home and told everyone about it and I stayed awake all night crying. I think I had a bigger crush on you than she did.”
“ You probably did.” I felt strangely weak and off-balance. My pulse was running wild. I needed to sit. I drew a deep breath and looked around. “So, what’s it been? Fourteen years?”
“ Yes. Hard to believe, isn’t it? I heard about Martha’s accident. How’s she doing?”
“ She’s…coping well. You know Martha. Nothing’s going to hold her down for long.” We gazed at each other evaluating each other’s faces for a moment. She had definitely inherited all the beauty in her family. “So, why don’t we take a look at the photography you’ve been getting and let me see if I can do any better?”
We stepped into her office where hundreds of photographs were stacked on her desk. I’d spent enough time in New York to know the difference between a beautiful, powerful image and one that lacked good lighting, lines, and composition. A few of them were artistic, even stunning. The majority, though, were atrocious and amateurish. I knew I could do better than that.
I asked her to show me where she wanted me to set up and followed her to a room with a door marked STUDIO B. It was forty-by-fifty foot with a rack of stereo equipment in a far corner, a mirrored wall along the right side, and ballet barres around the other three walls.
“ It needs to be a really large background,” she said.
“ No problem.”
“ Like thirty feet wide.”
“ Fine.”
She didn’t look convinced, but accepted my word. “Good. Can we put it over there?” I noticed she wasn’t wearing any kind of wedding or engagement ring when she raised her hand to point.
“ Sure. I can attach it to the ceiling, and ”
“ The ceiling?” she interrupted. “How are you going to do that? It’s a drop ceiling acoustical.”
“ It’ll hold it. I do it all the time. Even bigger.”
“ It was very expensive.”
Her persistence amused me. “It’ll be fine, Sydney. I promise.” Our eyes locked and something passed between us. Soul to soul. Trust, maybe, but something powerful. When she called me on the phone, she’d told me about all the problems she’d had with other photographers. Backgrounds that were too small, eyes that were shut, feet cut off in the photos, poor lighting, under-exposed negatives, and bad attitudes. The last one had even failed to deliver all the photographs that had been ordered and paid for.
Then she told me how badly she needed good photography for her advertising, brochures, and website and how much she liked my work. She said she’d thought of calling me many times, but didn’t think I’d do it
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