In a moment of weakness, while I was lamenting missing Zachary, I had typed his professional name into a search engine. I was shocked at the amount of hits that came up, considering he had been such a big star before the age of internet had fully hit. There was a vast amount of information regarding both his personal and professional life. Karen and I had looked at some pictures, agreeing he was incredibly handsome. I was embarrassed to realize I had downloaded some of them. As I studied a couple, I also recognized something else: all the pictures showed his rugged good looks, but if you looked in his eyes, you saw the truth. They stared at the camera, void of any emotion, even ones where he was smiling. Lifeless and cold, his eyes made me shiver and think that perhaps I wouldn’t have liked that person very much.
The Zachary I had come to know, who was beginning to open up, to show his feelings, was indeed a different person. What had happened—his past—had changed not only his physical appearance, but also the person inside. I thought about how different he was since we had come together: warmer, gentler. Maybe, I thought with a smile, I had changed him. Maybe the love I had shown him, helped make him that way.
I groaned when I looked at my history and saw not only a large number of pictures, but I had even purchased and downloaded an unauthorized biography on his life. I remembered thinking it was a good idea at the time, and that knowing more about him might help me to understand him better.
Now, with a clear head, I knew if there was something I wanted to know, I should just ask him directly. I wondered how he would respond if I showed him some of the pictures and asked him more questions. Hearing Karen moving around, I opened a new folder and transferred all the pictures and the book into it, labeling it Zachary. I would go through it all later, and delete most of it, once I made the decision about talking to him.
At the exact moment, I needed coffee.* * *Small excited tremors ran through my stomach as I drove into Cliff’s Edge mid-afternoon. Thanks to my early start, I had accomplished not only my errands, but also managed to move the bank appointment up, so I was on the road prior to noon. Zachary wasn’t expecting me yet, so I was hoping to surprise him. I stopped, grabbed a few things at the store, and even dropped by to say hello to Ashley, telling her how much Karen loved the scarf I had given her. She showed me a couple new pieces Zachary had brought in, and we chatted for a few minutes. Her smile, when she told me she had never seen him look so at ease or happy, made me blush a little. The fact he admitted to her he missed me, made me long to get home even quicker. Before I left, she handed me some tubes of paint he had ordered. Outside, as I was putting them in the trunk, the breeze caught the small order form, lifting it high and swirling away across the parking lot, coming to rest part way across the pavement. I hurried over to grab it, almost reaching it, when it lifted back up, drifting higher and landing on the road. I watched it with pursed lips as it drifted far out of my reach, then decided not to chase after it. If he needed another copy, Ashley would make him one. Right now, my only goal was to get to him.
I pulled up behind Karen’s house, and after a few minutes of hesitation, carried my bags inside. I had most of my things here, although it seemed more of my possessions were up at Zachary’s daily. Still, I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about me arriving at his place with suitcases. Moving quickly, I put away the few groceries, even though I hoped most of them would end up at Zachary’s later.
Opening the glass door, I inhaled the fresh air and reveled in the sound of the waves crashing along the shore. My eyes immediately went to the house on the bluff. As usual, I admired the way it nestled on the edge of the forest and overlooked the vast expanse of water in front of it. It appeared deserted, but I knew chances were he’d be in his studio, given the bright light of the day. All the windows were treated with a special film that blocked out the harmful rays, while still allowing light in so he could work and be comfortable. I could picture him in there, surrounded by his canvases, holding his paint palette, lost to the vision in front of him. I loved watching him create, deep in concentration.