Life Reconstructed: Chapter Eleven

Clomping down the sidewalk, Cat played out her conversation with Matt in her head. Her fingers clenched down at her sides. “So he thinks I’m dramatic, does he?” she muttered, her feet taking her to the front door of Amelia’s new business. Pulling on the handle, she took herself inside. A cramped entrance greeted her—a small rectangular space with light green paint on the walls replete with a small wooden receptionists desk, a long, thin bench riding low beneath the windows of the exterior facing wall and three faded and framed motivational posters. On the far left were two bathrooms and standing just behind the receptionist desk was an arched doorway, leading to the studio.

“And he knows why I went there, to pay him,” she muttered darkly as she took herself into the back of the building. Unlike the front, this room was large, a big open square with glass-mirrors lined up against one wall and, against the other, a hand-washing station and a large, dented, wardrobe. In the middle was polished wooden floors. And nothing else. A wide open space. At the very back of the room were yet two more rooms, both shrouded in darkness with the approaching evening.

Cat snarled. “I was being polite. Courteous. Obviously two things he knows nothing about.”

“I take it your visit to your kind-of, not-really friend didn’t go well?”

Snapping her head at the question, Cat saw Amelia emerge from one of the darkened back rooms. She held two wine glasses in one hand a bottle of chardonnay in the other.

A little embarrassed, Cat nonetheless laughed. Running a hand through her hair, she made an exaggerated face. “Got in on the first guess.”

Without a word, Amelia handed the glasses to cat. With a snap, she twisted off the cap on the wine bottle and proceeded to fill the glasses—to the brims.

Setting the bottle on the floor, she took one of the glasses. Then, holding it out in a cheer, she said: “Well, forget about him.”

“This’ll help.” With a raise of her hand, Cat saluted her new friend. And suddenly, Cat realized that that was what Amelia was. A friend. Just like that. That fast. “And anyway, I want to see your new digs.”

“Yay! Okay. Let me take you on the grand tour.” Amelia smiled, reaching back blindly, she grabbed Cat’s free hand, leading her forward. “We’ll start at the front. That way I can describe what I envision it’ll look like after renovations.”

Back in the front entrance, Amelia frowned in concentration. Following her gaze, Cat waited. “Well, the green paint is definitely going.”

“Good call.”

“And so’s the bench.”

“Not very welcoming.”

Amelia gave her sideways smile. “It’s also unbelievably uncomfortable. Terrible on the bum.”

Cat tilted her head hesitantly. “Is there room…”

Amelia nodded. “Normally no. But I found chairs that work. European design. Small, elegant. Teal green.”

Cat pursed her lips. “Nice.”

“Thank you.” Amelia swung her gaze around the room. “And the pictures.”

“Tacky.”

“Outdated.”

“What will you put up instead?”

Amelia shrugged. “I was thinking different cameras over the ages.”

“Cool.”

“Stenciled work.”

“Do you know someone?”

“Not yet.”

Cat laughed. “But you will.”

“Other than that, it’ll pretty much look the same. Well, I may get a new reception desk. But that’d be saved for a later date.”

Cat shifted her head back. The receptionist desk was a bit dated, curved in a crescent shape with white plastic paneling down the front and a cream Formica counter on top. But Amelia was right. It could wait for another day.

“Okay.”

“And in here…” Turning abruptly, she brought them back into the main studio floor. She shrugged. “Well. Actually not much will change here, either.”

“You’ll keep the mirrors?” Cat took a drink of her wine, contemplating the floor-to-ceiling wall of mirrors ahead of her.

“That?” Amelia made a face. “God, no. That’ll be the first thing out of here.”

“It’s a bit ballet class.”

“It’s a bit jazzercise.”

Cat laughed. “Yeah.”

“But other than that—” Amelia turned them in a tight circle,  her eyes gazing out at the room as though it were the first time, as though she hadn’t already noted every crack, ever chip, every bit of… “It’s perfect.”

“What about that?” Cat nodded with her chin toward the mammoth wardrobe. It looked like something straight out of the seventies.

“What about it?”

“Keeping it?” Trying to infuse a neutrality in her voice, Cat didn’t want to offend Amelia. But honestly, the thing was an eyesore.

Patting the heavily lined wood, Amelia smiled. “Yes.”

“What’ll you do with it?”

“Costumes.”

“Costumes?”

“And props.”

“I thought you were a photographer?”

Amelia laughed. “I am.”

“What do you need costumes for?”

“Style. Mood. Setting.”

Cat considered that for a moment. “Okay.”

Amelia gave her an amused look. “You don’t sound convinced.”

“To be fair, the only photography I really know if is for headshots, school pictures, and weddings.”

“Of which I’ll do only one.”

“School pictures?”

“Funny girl.”

“Portrait photography,” Cat murmured. She remembered the phrase from Amelia’s application. “What exactly does that entail?”

“Pretty much whatever the client wants.”

“And the costumes?”

“Again. Whatever the client wants.”

“And some of them want to dress up?”

“You’d be surprised.”

Cat took another drink. “Still, I’ve got to be honest. The wardrobe is hideous.” There goes her sense of delicacy.

Amelia grimaced, glancing back up at the honey-blonde wood. “Well, I know.” She sighed, as though admitting that had been difficult. “But it’s so damn convenient.”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll go on the maybe-someday replace list.”

Cat squinted at the door, unwilling to let her thoughts roam too freely. There was something about that closet that kept click-clicking…

But Amelia had already told Cat to forget about Matthew for the night.

Cat swirled her wine glass. “And in those rooms?” She pointed to the backrooms.

“Ah. My extra-circulars.”

Cat snorted. “Your what?”

Amelia took her forward, stepping into the door on the left. Inside was a small, square room. It, too, was a painted in the same pale green as the front reception area. Small windows marched across two of the four walls. When Amelia took her into the next room, it appeared much the same, just a mirror image (except of course for the wine bottles that Amelia had purchased that evening, which were lined up on a small table.) Small, square, boring.

“When I found this place, these rooms were like little bonus features.”

“Yeah?”

“For most of my indoor work, I’ll use the main studio. It has the room and the airiness necessary. But these…” Amelia smiled. “The possibilities are endless. Special photoshoots. Classes. Showings. Discussion groups. Limitless.”

Cat nodded.

Amelia turned in a circle. “Don’t be deceived. It’s there very non-descriptness that makes them so perfect. They’re transformative.”

Cat grinned. “You know, when I very first saw the address on your application, my heart skipped.”

Amelia raised one eyebrow before taking a drink from her glass, silently inviting Cat to go on.

“This building. It’s not had the best track record,” Cat said, choosing her words carefully now.

“I sort of figured that out myself.”

“You did?”

“The price was kind of a steal.”

Cat sighed. “Yeah.”

“It was a ballet studio.”

“And a daycare center.” Cat frowned. “And I think it was even a clothing boutique at one time.”

“Worried I won’t stick?” But there was no defensiveness in Amelia’s question. Only curiosity.

Cat grinned. “No. That’s my point. I think this space finally found its home.”

Amelia held out her glass. “Here’s to something new.”

Cat clinked glasses. Something new, indeed.