Page 50 of Almost Not Quite Engaged

Maui

My desire to master this piece of equipment feels like a sexual desire. I look through the lens and start walking around. I mess with the settings. “Your ISO is set way too high for this light.”

“And your VGA is too cute.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“What the hell are YOU talking about?” he quips.

“Your shutter speed is off.”

“Your Very Good Ass is cute. No idea with that thing. Gift from our new producers who think we should incorporate a photography angle. I’m sure they got it for free too. Never been off autopilot.”

“That’s like owning a Porsche and driving it in 3rd gear. And did you call my ass good?”

“That can’t possibly be news to you.”

I ignore him. I attach the short lens, hold up my left hand in front of me. Frame it with a couple of palm trees. I wait until the sun hits the ring reflecting off the ocean, I exhale and know. I gently press down on the button. Zane rips the camera from my hands and looks at me stupefied.

“You’re like a savant with that thing. This could easily be an advertisement for getting engaged in Hawaii.”

“I have a vague idea what I’m doing.” I abandoned photography in college for the more appropriate editorial route but wound up somewhere in the middle again. The meh of it all. I wrote captions for someone else’s pictures. And blurbs about places to visit I never experienced. My safe job in media. Ha.

I grin from my toes to the top of my head. He hands the camera back to me and flings on a big backpack and grabs two water bottles. He hooks one on his belt.

“Gin?” He laughs.

“Not this time, figured we might actually need water.”

“As long as it comes forest free, I’ll drink it.” I shiver thinking about that water.

“The strap should be in the bag along with a spare battery and a bunch of cards.”

“I can use it.” I hold it up.

“Sure. Why not?” I never share my photography anymore. Not since I was told I should stick to editorial by my professor at Bard and my mother might have mentioned there’s no future in it. But writing blurbs, captions and listicles for a city magazine that’s only really in hotels turned out to be just another Chad. Good enough on paper but not good enough for me.

The bag is more like a belly bag pouch I can easily wear over my shoulder. But I hang the camera from my neck.

We set out on the trail. Zane snaps a picture of the map at the trailhead. It’s lush and different over here. When you’re at the manicured Fairmont it would be easy to forget that jungle and volcanoes rule these islands. That what’s been carved out for tourists to enjoy is hardly what Hawaii really is about.

He’s in front of me and turns over his shoulder, his faded Breakers hat shielding his face a bit. “Have you ever thought of doing this for real?” I raise the camera and snap him with a thick green background.

“I work in editorial. That picture was lucky. Trust me. I’m not that good.”

“Did work.”

“True. I went through that ‘Emo. I’m an artist’ phase in college. I took a lot of fuzzy pictures of Harlem graffiti and thought it was art. It’s just fun.”

“Fun? You know how to compose a picture, light it.” I catch up to him and we walk side by side in silence. Not sure I’ve ever been comfortable with silence but this trail seems to beg for it.

We stop after about ten minutes. I focus on some flowers and crouch down to capture their beauty. He unzips the front of the backpack. “Come here.”

I turn toward him and he removes my bucket hat. Then gently spreads sunblock on my nose and cheeks. His touch is almost reverent in how gentle it is. The sun is hot, there’s a slight breeze but I’m on fire as he caresses my face.

“You’re already getting a little red,” he says. I open my eyes and his hat is on backward, he licks his lips slightly and my whole body is defying any opinion I ever had for him. We stare for a second too long and then something rustles behind me. I look, when I turn back, he’s put his hat on the right way and is two feet down the path.

I grab my hat and follow after him both of us ignoring whatever the fuck that was. There’s this giant leaf in the middle of the path that seems to have fallen from a prehistoric tree. I pick it up and jog up and whack him with it. It blows his hat up a little.