continued. I found myself enjoying it. He wasn’t the sort of person I would normally get to know: he was a lot better than that.
He’d been just twenty-three when we met at the Holiday Inn. His plan had been simple enough. Fly to London, buy a Hi-8 video camera to join the 35mm his mother had bought him as a graduation present, then hitchhike to Bosnia and take pictures that told the truth. He was going to sell them, once he found out how. By the sound of it, he’d done both.
‘You cover the Gulf?’
‘You kidding? With skin this colour? The last thing I need is to get on the wrong end of some friendly fire . . .’
His big challenge now was how to balance work and family. I told him I wasn’t exactly the world’s leading expert on that, but knew it wasn’t going to get any simpler.
Jerry nodded. The three of them had moved from Buffalo less than a month ago, and Renee was nesting big-time. ‘Maybe another child next year, who knows?’ He went a bit dewy-eyed again. ‘Good things, Nick. Good things.’
He ordered another beer, and I heard myself doing so too. We got back to talking about the exhibition. ‘You know what?’ His voice wavered. ‘I’ve spent all my working life managing to block out the horrors I see through the lens so I can project my message through the image, but since Chloë everything’s changed. You know what I’m saying?’ He swallowed hard. ‘Like, the tragedy of that mother trying to protect her child, knowing that she herself had only seconds left to live. Hoping desperately that someone would look after it . . . Looking at my stuff, it takes on a new meaning now. What a waste . . .’ He took a long swig. ‘It’s all bullshit, isn’t it?’
I rubbed my hand into my hair again and wiped my face with it. I felt a sudden pain in the centre of my chest and hoped I wasn’t making it too obvious. I guessed I felt the way he looked; he brushed away a tear that fell slowly down one cheek. ‘You’re right, mate, it’s all bullshit.’
He stood up with me. ‘Come home with me, come see Renee and Chloë. We’re not far.’
‘I’m sorry, I—’
He just wouldn’t give up. ‘Come on, my car’s just round the corner. I’d like to show you some of my work. It got a whole lot better since the last time we met.’
I hesitated as we reached the door.
‘Come on, man. Come home. I’ve told Renee a hundred times about that day . . . She’d never forgive me if I didn’t bring you back.’
Short of me pulling a knife on him, there was no way he was going to let me just walk away. ‘I make great coffee too.’ We set off through the door. ‘None of that Arabic crap.’
16
We headed out of DC towards Chevy Chase, along the main drag. Massachusetts Avenue took us past all the embassy buildings and eventually to row upon row of nondescript apartment buildings. By then he had finished telling me that Renee came from Buffalo, not far from Lackawanna, she was a freelance picture editor, and up until recently she’d stayed in her small apartment because he was always away. But soon after they married, Chloë came along and it was time to move. Why they were here in DC, he didn’t get to say.
His last job had been covering the anti-government violence in Venezuela. ‘I got some great shots of protesters going toe to toe with National Guard. You see them in Newsweek ?’
We turned left alongside one of the apartment buildings, then down a ramp and into the underground lot. He closed down the engine, and turned to face me.
‘Don’t you want to stay at home now, Jerry? I mean, if I had a child right now I think it would stop me bouncing along to wherever the shit’s hitting the fan.’
Rather than answering, he fiddled with a set of keys as we walked to the elevator. ‘Security,’ he said. ‘You need to unlock a lock just to get to the lock in this place.’ He had a little trouble with what key went into the elevator, but at last we were on our way
He’d been just twenty-three when we met at the Holiday Inn. His plan had been simple enough. Fly to London, buy a Hi-8 video camera to join the 35mm his mother had bought him as a graduation present, then hitchhike to Bosnia and take pictures that told the truth. He was going to sell them, once he found out how. By the sound of it, he’d done both.
‘You cover the Gulf?’
‘You kidding? With skin this colour? The last thing I need is to get on the wrong end of some friendly fire . . .’
His big challenge now was how to balance work and family. I told him I wasn’t exactly the world’s leading expert on that, but knew it wasn’t going to get any simpler.
Jerry nodded. The three of them had moved from Buffalo less than a month ago, and Renee was nesting big-time. ‘Maybe another child next year, who knows?’ He went a bit dewy-eyed again. ‘Good things, Nick. Good things.’
He ordered another beer, and I heard myself doing so too. We got back to talking about the exhibition. ‘You know what?’ His voice wavered. ‘I’ve spent all my working life managing to block out the horrors I see through the lens so I can project my message through the image, but since Chloë everything’s changed. You know what I’m saying?’ He swallowed hard. ‘Like, the tragedy of that mother trying to protect her child, knowing that she herself had only seconds left to live. Hoping desperately that someone would look after it . . . Looking at my stuff, it takes on a new meaning now. What a waste . . .’ He took a long swig. ‘It’s all bullshit, isn’t it?’
I rubbed my hand into my hair again and wiped my face with it. I felt a sudden pain in the centre of my chest and hoped I wasn’t making it too obvious. I guessed I felt the way he looked; he brushed away a tear that fell slowly down one cheek. ‘You’re right, mate, it’s all bullshit.’
He stood up with me. ‘Come home with me, come see Renee and Chloë. We’re not far.’
‘I’m sorry, I—’
He just wouldn’t give up. ‘Come on, my car’s just round the corner. I’d like to show you some of my work. It got a whole lot better since the last time we met.’
I hesitated as we reached the door.
‘Come on, man. Come home. I’ve told Renee a hundred times about that day . . . She’d never forgive me if I didn’t bring you back.’
Short of me pulling a knife on him, there was no way he was going to let me just walk away. ‘I make great coffee too.’ We set off through the door. ‘None of that Arabic crap.’
16
We headed out of DC towards Chevy Chase, along the main drag. Massachusetts Avenue took us past all the embassy buildings and eventually to row upon row of nondescript apartment buildings. By then he had finished telling me that Renee came from Buffalo, not far from Lackawanna, she was a freelance picture editor, and up until recently she’d stayed in her small apartment because he was always away. But soon after they married, Chloë came along and it was time to move. Why they were here in DC, he didn’t get to say.
His last job had been covering the anti-government violence in Venezuela. ‘I got some great shots of protesters going toe to toe with National Guard. You see them in Newsweek ?’
We turned left alongside one of the apartment buildings, then down a ramp and into the underground lot. He closed down the engine, and turned to face me.
‘Don’t you want to stay at home now, Jerry? I mean, if I had a child right now I think it would stop me bouncing along to wherever the shit’s hitting the fan.’
Rather than answering, he fiddled with a set of keys as we walked to the elevator. ‘Security,’ he said. ‘You need to unlock a lock just to get to the lock in this place.’ He had a little trouble with what key went into the elevator, but at last we were on our way
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