Frames Per Second by Bill Eidson Page A

or Topeka.
    “You make your own priorities,” she would say. “You could build your own studio right here in Boston, or work with Leonard Penn and do advertising or corporate work. Do you still want to be living out of a suitcase when you’re fifty? Peeping at people, catching them at their dirty tricks? Don’t you want to be here while your kids grow up? You make your own priorities, Ben.”
    One of Andi’s famous attitudes, published nationally. You Make Your Own Priorities.
    That’s convenient, Ben would think. Sometimes he would say it.
     
    Ben sat up in the rowboat, and grabbed the oars. He spun the boat around and headed back toward the cabin, suddenly angry. Damned convenient of her.
    Reinventing himself into a commercial photographer would involve far more than developing different skills—he simply had no passion for the work. And he couldn’t see that killing his own ambitions for the sake of the children would serve them well.
    Particularly since the real problem wasn’t his time away. Or that sometimes his photos revealed things that were base and ugly about the world around them.
    The real problem was brutally simple.  
    She didn’t love him anymore.
     
     

 
    CHAPTER 7
     
     
    “HE’S HERE,” LISA SAID.
    Kurt didn’t look up from his laptop. “Send him in, please.”
    A few minutes later, Ben stepped into his office. As always, Kurt had to steel himself from withdrawing a bit in his presence. Ben was an inch or two taller, more athletically built.  
    “Have a seat,” Kurt offered.
    He asked Lisa for some coffee and she returned immediately with a carafe. Kurt and Ben didn’t speak while she poured, both simply observing each other politely enough, waiting until the door would be shut. “Peter called this morning,” she said to Ben. “He said he’s got something for you.”
    “Good.”
    Kurt realized he had never seen Ben without the beard. His eyes were clear, his skin ruddied by the sun.
    “Have you talked to Peter at all?” Kurt asked. “He’s been busy.”
    “No, I drove in from Maine early this morning.”
    “You’re looking well. Good vacation?”
    “Great.” His voice was flat. “Good honeymoon?”
    Kurt smiled, but didn’t answer the question. Instead, he said, “Obviously, this has every opportunity of being awkward for us.”
    Ben nodded and sipped his coffee.
    “The solution to me seems to be that we maintain absolutely the same professional courtesy that we have already established. I’ve always respected your work and integrity and would hate to see you go elsewhere.”
    “Bullshit,” Ben said, quietly. “You would love to see me leave. But you know Andi and everyone else would think you pressured me into it, and you don’t want that.”
    Kurt shrugged. It was true, but he saw no sense in confirming it.
    Ben continued. “And it may come to that. My first reaction was to quit. But, I like working for this magazine and I like the people I work with. I think I’ve made some remarkable images on behalf of Insider.’’
    “Who could disagree?” Kurt pointed to a framed cover of Insider on his wall.
    “So, I’m staying for the time being. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll let you know. As for you and Andi, it’s taken me a week of being alone to really work it into my system, but I’ve accepted that she made her choice.”
    “She has.”
    “But when it comes to the children, you’ve got to remember they’re mine.” Ben’s eyes were hard now. “What I’ve also come to in the past week is how much I’ve let them down. And I know you’ve got a role with them, but I’m still their father.”
    “Well, if you’re talking about increasing visitation rights, we’d need to talk that through with Andi.”
    “I realize that. And I will talk with Andi. But right now I’m talking with you about how you see yourself with my kids.”
    Kurt tried for a calming tone. “Look, Ben, as you know, my first wife and I were divorced. So I have some sense of