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Agreat photograph makes you think you know the subject, even if you’ve never met. A great photo reaches out and pulls you inside the moment, so you can feel, smell, and taste it. And this, by all accounts, is a great photo.
“But the thing about love languages,” Charlie says, “is it’s not just about how we express love, but how we receive love. You need someone to do something for you that makes you feel loved. Someone to help you.”
I shake my head. “I hate asking for help.” “That’s because deep down, you want someone to see what you need before you have to ask.”
I become aware of three things at once: My nightshirt is made from the thinnest of cotton, the hem has shifted up my thighs, and Charlie’s hand is still on my leg.
“No, it’s because when you speak, he listens. When you smile, he smiles. When you need something, he offers help. When you give him something, he thanks you. You’re peas and carrots—I think you’ve found yourself a lifelong friend.”
“Just see where the sun takes you. And don’t forget: Good things happen at the lake.”
He gives me a long look and says, “Fuck it.” I’d smile, but his mouth is already on mine.
I commit it all to film, and every so often, I find Charlie looking at me with a smile as lethal and magnificent as the sun.
“I think relationships can change,” Heather says now. “And they’re not always easy. After everything, I still believe in love. I just don’t have the time or energy to offer another person right now.”
I fall asleep to the beat of Charlie’s heart and even breaths. A lullaby that’s specific to him, to this night.
“Falling in love is terrifying.”
My heart feels too big for my chest, like it might crack right open. I’m smitten. I’m struck. I’m crushed by the totality of Charlie. This complicated, kind, infuriating man.
instead of telling myself that I’m okay, I tell myself that I will be okay. Maybe not today, but I’ll get there. I repeat it in my head, over and over.
