“Yes, I am. You must be Trish. Please, have a seat.”
Becky returned immediately, poured ice water and explained the lunch specials. They each ordered the Cobb salad, then handed their menus back to Becky.
“Thank you for meeting with me,” said Trish. “I’m a little nervous. You can probably tell.”
Carrie smiled. “It’s okay, we’re just talking about photographs. Why don’t you tell me what you had in mind?”
Trish touched her hair and swallowed. Then, as if preparing for a plunge into icy water, she took a deep breath.
“These aren’t just photographs to me, Carrie.” Trish met Carrie’s eyes and in that moment, Carrie saw that something was haunting the girl. Fine lines of pain and fear delicately bracketed her almond-shaped eyes.
But there was courage there as well. Strength.
Suddenly Carrie knew what she was going to say. Knew it and wished she didn’t. Another face flashed into her mind, thin and pale, with long red hair and pink lips, twisted in despair.
Don’t think. Don’t remember.
“When I was twenty-two, in college,” Trish began, her voice low and steady, “I was sexually assaulted.”
Carrie breathed out.
“I’m so sorry.” She touched Trish’s hand.
Trish nodded. “Thank you. It was a… horrible time. As you might imagine.”
She paused as if lost in thought and Carrie let the memories return. The last sitting she’d done in San Francisco, riding high on her unexpected success and good fortune, had been of a girl like this. Pauline. Too thin, with hunched posture and red-rimmed eyes.
Donna had sent Pauline to her. And she’d promised Pauline that Carrie’s apartment studio would be a safe place, that she’d feel better about herself after. That the photos would be empowering, would help her find the part of her spirit that had been stolen from her.
But after the sitting, Pauline had gone home, crawled into the empty tub and slit her wrists.
Carrie was back in Cherry Lake within the month.
“I’ve come a long way, thanks to Donna,” said Trish. “She told me I needed to rediscover my… sensual side. And that you’d be able to help me.”
Donna had begged Carrie not to leave.
Trish stopped abruptly as Becky appeared with their salads. They both smiled tightly, waiting for the waitress to leave. Carrie picked up her fork, but her appetite was gone.
Trish’s cheeks were pink and she was blinking too quickly. Carrie knew this was a difficult moment for her.
“I’m honored to be considered for part of your journey in this way, Trish,” she said softly. “But I haven’t done this sort of thing in a long, long time.”
Panic crossed Trish’s face. “But you’ll do it for me, won’t you? Donna said you were the best.”
Carrie took a sip of ice water, choosing her words.
“Maybe I was, once.”
Trish needed to understand that photo documentation of this chapter of her life, while hopefully bringing closure, would also commemorate it, preserve it, in a way. No matter how carefully she might hide it, file it as over and done, there would always be a chance that sometime, somehow, someone would come across it, forcing her to face it once more.
It had taken Trish a great deal of courage to trust Carrie with her story. She deserved to know that her photographer might not be worthy of that trust.
“I’ll show you my previous work,” she said. “But I have to tell you something, first.”
*
“Hello, I’m Ethan Nash,” said Ethan, holding his hand out. “You must be Mrs. Terlecki.”
Mrs. Terlecki looked him up and down, then reluctantly took his hand. “Since it says so on the door, I guess it must be true. And I know who you are. What brings you here?”
“I’m looking for the computer science department, actually,” he said, keeping a determined smile on his face.
“The reason being…?”
“As you might know, cyber-security is my business. I’ve identified this location as the source of a recent hacking attempt. I hoped to speak with the head of the department, if possible.”
“Is this anything to do with that whole Carrie Logan thing?”