Jack headed to the luggage ramp at the SeaTac Airport.
He blushed twice when he first met her. First, on the plane, after a stretch down the aisle and back to her window seat, she pressed herself against him leaving him no space to let her in. Her chest, well veiled yet inches away from his eyes, triggered an embarrassing arousal. Later, at the luggage ramp, their suitcases were coincidentally side by side. When they reached down together to retrieve them, the suitcases bounced off of each other, setting their bodies off balance and, briefly, in contact. They exchanged a few words to reestablish proper boundaries. But that wasn’t meant to be.
Ten years later, he couldn’t tell whether Ann loved him anymore. She hadn’t kissed him in months. She’d always been the initiator; a private game between them. Hurt, Jack wanted to find his own two feet.
Jack stayed at the Y, downtown Seattle. He walked to the Fish Market, to Lake Union, and even to the UW campus. From Johnson Hall, looking South East, he saw Mount Rainer floating over the horizon. Unusual sight; clouds or mist can hide the view for days. His only plan was to experience life without selling medical instruments.
On a whim, he called Ryan Sharp Photography, and asked if they took on apprentices. Ryan had never been asked before. At the shop, Jack saw shiny metal pieces on a table. The camera was set up with a black drape for background and two sources of light. “That and wedding photography,” Ryan said, “and I’d like it if you would sail with me in exchange!”
“I’ve got no experience!” Jack said.
“I’ll teach you! It takes two to sail my Catalina!” said Ryan, “Friday, here, 5 P.M.?”
As Ryan was rigging his Catalina on Lake Union, he threw new words at Jack whose safety depended on mastering them: “port,” “starboard,” “lines,” “jib,”... Jack also needed to be in his body at all times to avoid being hit by the boom at the whim of the wind, and to lean over the water for balance when needed. At the rudder, after testing the wind and getting Jack familiar with tacks, Ryan joined other sailboats.
To Jack’s surprise a race had started. Luckily, the wind was perfect for beginners. Often, pointing at some other faster sailboat, Jack asked if there’s something he could do better. Ryan coached Jack or adjusted the sails. At the end, when their second place finish was announced, Ryan looked puzzled. Over a beer, Ryan gave the trophy to Jack: “I’ve never won anything before!” and became deeply quiet.
Between bitter swigs and sniffles, Ryan finally spoke: “My father taught me many rules about sailing; one was to never ever compare his boat to others.”
“Just family shame crushing a child’s pure joy playing at mastering the wind!” thought Jack.
The next day, at the wedding, Jack was to focus on the guests. Ryan put a camera in his hands and Jack went into a cold sweat, his heart pounding in his chest like a wild cat wanting out.
“Are you alright?” Ryan asked.
“Yes,” Jack mumbled, unconvincingly, “I think…”
Jack started framing and taking shots. Everyone obliged kindly. Yet he was miles away. Ryan brought him back asking for help with the video camera. Toward the end, Jack felt nauseous. He thought of Ann and the kids and physical pain seared through his heart as if scratched by feline claws. Ears buzzing, legs wobbly, Jack was suddenly startled out of his vertiginous world by a deep voice. Jack’s look was blank.
“Do you love photography?’ The man repeated.
“Huh…”
“I’m Rain’s father,” the man explained, “Shane! I’m an artist. When I paint, I’m in love with painting and the subject. I get so engaged in it, time vanishes. If I don’t love, I am separate from what I do and my painting has no life. But if I love, with no expectations, miracles happen!”
Jack realized the man was making conversation, artist to artist, except, he’d never been a photographer or an artist.
“Oh!” Jack said to regain composure, and then chose to be real: “I’m not really a photographer; I’m just helping out. How do you love when you don’t feel it?
“Love is not a feeling,” Shane had a lecturing tone, “that’s where people go wrong! Love is a frequency. You tune in to love like you tune in to a radio station. You have to find your dial and adjust it. You have to dare to love!”
Confetti suddenly fell softly over the guests to the delight of the bride. “Look! Look! It’s a dance of colors!” exclaimed Shane suddenly shifting from a lecturer to a spontaneous child. “That’s my daughter!” he said embracing her into a spin in the midst of laughter and applause.
Ryan drove Jack back to the Y. “I checked your photos,” he said approvingly, “I’ll be in touch!”
Jack walked to the waterfront. Shane had pointed to the ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ he’d never been able to see. He used speed dial on his cell phone.
“Jack?”
“Ann!” he said, “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I guess…” Ann said surprised.
“I want to see you, to explain everything to you and the kids. I made up this man Ryan and Kansas. None of that is true. I’m in Seattle. I just wanted to disappear. The short of it is, I was scared you didn’t love me and I was scared to show you my love. I want all of you to join me here… if you still want me in your life…”
“Mary and Jeffrey will be happy!” Ann said.
“How about you?” Jack asked.
“So you’re in my constellation after all… you just needed to find yourself!” Ann reflected out loud.
“What are you saying?”
“I have been waiting for you to show up to me since we met!” Ann said.
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