This story produced many favorable comments and e-mails, many pleaded with me to continue with the characters in some way. Thus, as my fans know, Jeremy and Alex reappear in several of my other stories:
Mel's Wedding
and
Temporary Girlfriend: Wedding
, to name two. In these other stories, our friends from this story are even more active and playful than they appear in this 'mood story' written in summer 2007. I hope you enjoy this story as well as all my others. (My thanks to Jeriscol for his editing. )
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It filled a wall that was over eight feet high and ten feet wide. There was no furniture in front of the wall, and it was the first thing you saw when you entered the room. It was unavoidable, and everyone that visited was forced to comment on it. You had to comment. It was a woman's face.
She was beautiful. The photograph was a candid shot; she wasn't looking at the camera. Her glance was just over and to the right in the shot. Her smile was infectious.
The oversized photograph was in Jeremy's South Kensington flat. He had taken the photo without her paying particular attention to his presence. He'd reduced it to a head and shoulders shot then had it blown up by his favorite print house so he could paper his wall with her.
Her long, lightly colored hair was almost perfect; there was just one strand that was out of place. A sidelight caught it just right to highlight it. It drifted across her left cheek and had been in motion as Jeremy's camera froze the image for posterity. It gave her a relaxed and carefree look. Yet, her eyes betrayed a much deeper and more caring personality, one that Jeremy wanted to know more intimately.
The background in the picture was slightly blurred, but not so much that you couldn't tell she was at an outdoor party. About fifty other people were evident in the fuzzy background.
She was dressed to the nines he recalled, but only the dark jacket and white v-neck blouse she wore showed in the photograph carefully revealing her sexy neckline.
The occasion had been a wedding, but she was not the bride, only a chic guest, frozen in time by his Canon camera. Her name was Alexandra Cary Reid; people called her Alex.
Jeremy Foltz became a photographer in high school when he volunteered to work on the school newspaper and yearbook. He turned out to have a knack for taking superb and artistic shots of people. Even at that early age and then in university his classmates sought him out for his skills in making them look good; no, not good -- great, spectacular, magnificent, God like.
At an early age, he developed darkroom skills, but gave them up immediately with the advent of digital photography. He quickly learned the manipulation of digital photos and was masterful with his computer and photo processing programs. He could work lighting magic with only the ambient lights in a room, adjusting their placement, and brightness with a rare competency even professionals a generation older didn't have. Give him a studio or the ability to set his own lights and strobes and he could create wonders for the eye to enjoy. Over time, his hobby consumed him and then became his vocation.
All that was almost fifteen years earlier. Now he was considered at the apex of his field. He was booked a year out, mostly for executive media shots and wedding parties. He was sought after by every bride in the country willing to pay the outrageous price he commanded for often turning a pig's ear into a silk purse. This was the expression he used with his close friends to refer to taking ugly or unbecoming brides and grooms and making them look spectacular in their engagement or wedding photographs. Of course, he did the same for guests too. The photo on the wall of his living room was an exception; it was untouched except for its size.
Jeremy had taken over a thousand photographs at the September wedding where he photographed Alex. The photos and album that he produced were a personal gift from Jeremy to the bride and groom. The bride was his second cousin, Maddy. Everyone stood in awe of his work and the package he produced; it was significantly beyond what the new couple or their families would have ever dreamed of spending for wedding photographs. He'd even used the event to experiment with some new equipment and some daring photography outside his traditional wedding fare; the results nicely complemented the usual shots he also took.
Jeremy sat every night and studied the photograph in his living room. He'd come up one flight from his ground floor office and studio at the end of the day, pour a glass of chilled Sancerre wine he'd brought back from a trip to the Loire Valley, and sit on his sofa and stare at the woman. He could vaguely recall a brief conversation they'd had at the wedding, nothing profound but polite self introductions and small talk about the wedding, guests and of course the English weather.
Often, he wondered about his sanity. Was he obsessed with her? Was this just a fascination that would fade aware or was there some dark side within him that was struggling to emerge? Today he decided it was the former since he was taking no action to do anything other than appreciate his own photograph. On other days, however, he admitted his obsession.
Over time, he fell in love with Alex. Not one to talk aloud, he would think with her about his day, his problems, his frustrations, his joys, his bliss. Through the love, he had for her he found answers and ideas. He found he was more sensitive to his inner voice; he also grew to like himself more.
At the end of June, Jeremy was a guest at the second marriage of his aunt Jane. He was enjoying not being the regular photographer for the event; however, he couldn't resist the urge to bring his camera to the event to capture some more candid shots. Jeremy loved photographing people -- all people, especially at happy events, or at joyous moments in their lives.
Jeremy had taken a few shots during the service as unobtrusively as he could, leaving the "hired gun" to scurry around as he usually did seeking the perfect shots and angles as the wedding ceremony in the old Norman church unfolded. After the service, the 300 guests strolled through the church gardens to an adjacent old country inn. The wedding party had clustered along a riverbank for the mandatory group photos whilst the guests had the luxury of an open bar at the inn.
Jeremy stood with a Pimms in his hand, camera slung over a shoulder, as he watched from a corner of the patio. His square jaw, athletic frame, striking six-foot height, and mid-thirties age set him well apart from the other guests, many of whom friends of his middle-aged aunt.
He didn't notice the attractive woman with the broad brimmed hat and bright summer frock until she was standing next to him with a gin and tonic in her hand. She turned to him and spoke, awakening him from his study of the wedding.
"You're not running around taking pictures the way you were at Maddy's wedding. Are you off duty?"
He turned to see Alex; her impish smile and dimples only three feet from him. This was someone he knew so well, but didn't know at all. "Oh my God," he thought, "This is the woman papered on my living room wall!" He was simultaneously horrified and tongue-tied.
After an awkward pause, during which he continued to stare at her she said "That wasn't a trick question. I remember your photographing everything at my cousin's wedding. I didn't mean to upset you. Did the shot you took of me there turn out? I'd love to see it. Jeremy, isn't it?"
