The Photographer by Mary Dixie Carter

Author:Mary Dixie Carter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

* * *

As I was reentering the library, I saw Amelia and Natalie standing in the far corner, near the fireplace and bookshelves. Amelia was speaking to Natalie in a hushed voice: “You should be able to figure that out on your own.”

“Don’t you want her to know who we are?” Natalie chewed on her nails.

“Your father and I will take the lead. It is not your place.” Amelia rounded her shoulders and back, exactly as my cat, Eliza, sometimes did. Her feline bearing came into sharp relief when she’d been crossed. I imagined using Photoshop to create an amalgam of Amelia’s image and my cat’s. A cat woman.

Fritz interjected from across the room. “I disagree—”

“Fritz,” Amelia cut him off.

I wondered if Fritz and Natalie heard the steeliness in Amelia’s voice.

Lucia appeared seconds later. Amelia led her back to the sofa, then picked up a photo album from the coffee table and sat next to Lucia in my seat. “These are photos of Natalie as a baby.” Together, they flipped through the pages.

“I don’t think I’ve seen that album.” I walked behind the sofa so that I had a view over Lucia’s shoulder. Long, slow, deep breaths.

The majority of the pictures were poorly shot photos of Amelia and Natalie on the beach. I surmised that Fritz had taken them, because he wasn’t in any of them. Natalie looked to be a year old, like she had only just learned to walk. She was wearing a bikini that was covered with watermelon slices and a matching watermelon sun hat. In one photo, her feet were buried in the sand with only the tips of her toes peeking out. She was laughing. In the next photo, Natalie held a handful of sand and appeared to be dropping her sand into a bucket of water. Next, she was back at the waves, adding water to her bucket. In another photo, she was splashing in the waves. Wet sand covered her legs and arms completely and was also caked into her hair. Amelia, who was visible in the background, was sitting on a beach chair reading a magazine. She looked well groomed, as though she had just had her hair blown out. No sand on her face or body.

For some reason, Amelia (I assumed it was Amelia) had also chosen to include a photo of Natalie crying. I never include photos of children crying. It’s a rookie mistake. The kid looks bad and the parents look worse. In this case, the child was crying and Amelia appeared to be at a loss, lacking any maternal instinct. From the photo, I was able to see Amelia’s limitations. As soon as her child started to cry, as soon as she had something unpleasant to contend with, she was inclined to hand the child off.

“Natalie, you were a beautiful baby,” Amelia said to her daughter, who’d taken her place back on the arm of the sofa.

“She’s a beautiful girl,” I said. Amelia missed so many opportunities to boost Natalie’s self-confidence.

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