Chapter Two - The Photographer

I wake up every morning, stare at the ceiling and wonder: What the fuck am I doing with my life? I felt like I was having a mid-life crisis, and I was barely twenty-eight.

And it's not like I don't have a lot going on for me at the moment. I'm engaged to the gorgeous Claire Gilbert; most guys would kill to get a girl like that. I met her when I was a senior in college and she was a freshman. Fresh high school graduates were so easy to score. I made her believe that I was the man of her dreams. Joke was on me; I ended up proposing two years later and we've been engaged ever since.

It was her idea to stay engaged until we both had stable jobs, and by that she meant herself, so that we wouldn't hinder each other's career lives. I was fine with it as long as she was fine with it. All of our relationship decisions were ultimately done by her. She was the one who weaved all the intricate details of this love story. A part of me still believed that she anticipated the proposal, despite her denying it every time I asked her.

I have the most amazing job in the world; I get to take pictures of everything that captures my attention. It was remarkable just how much you can see from the perfect angle. I fell in love with the trade when my parents took my sister and I, when we were barely teenagers, to an Art Gallery that displayed some of Luis Marden's finest works. They thought of it as a way to add more culture into our little family. It worked brilliantly. I couldn't stop staring and admiring his photographs; they were all about Jacques Cousteau and his underwater adventures. It made me feel like I was with them, in the moment, seeing what they saw then. I could almost hear them breathe through their oxygen masks and hear the bubbles pop as they reached the surface of the water. It was one of those moments of epiphany that you just know will change your life forever.

Getting to eternalize a beautiful scene on a glossy piece of paper or a wall-sized canvas was food to my soul ever since. I remember the first camera I got was the Contax N Digital, back when I was fourteen years old. It was the best Christmas present ever. I carried that thing around like it was the most precious of diamonds. I've been nicknamed "Cyclops" ever since. I'm never quite as happy as I am when I'm behind the camera lens. And the money isn't that bad either. When you live in a city like New York, being a freelance photographer isn't quite as challenging as one might think. It's actually one of the highest paid jobs in the state.

Despite all that, I felt like there's something missing. There's this constant nagging sensation that there's more to life than what I've got. It makes me wonder sometimes if I'm greedier than I let on, or I simply lack the feeling of gratitude. Whichever the reason was, it didn't make me feel good about myself, not in the slightest sense. It didn't make me come off as a decent person either.

Oh well!

I turned to the left and rested my head on my palm. Claire was sleeping peacefully by my side. She was perfect. She had everything a guy was looking for in a woman: great rack, a killer ass and a sexy personality. Her long blonde locks and almond shaped eyes only added to her appeal. My friends go green with envy when they see us together. She has turned me from a boy into a man, so I had to put a ring on her perfectly manicured finger.

But every time I looked at that ring, I wondered if I made the right choice.

I know, I know. This makes me sound like a complete and utter jackass, but everyone was entitled to getting cold-feet about life altering decisions.

Her eyes slowly started fluttering open, revealing the most beautiful hazel eyes that reminded me of a caramel sundae, and a smile drew on her face when she looked at me.

'Are you watching me sleep?', she asked in her sexy morning voice.

God, I loved her morning sexy voice.

'You say that like it's a bad thing.'

'No, not bad. A little creepy, maybe, but not bad', she said as she kissed me on the nose.

She got out of bed and made us her delicious, yet equally healthy, egg muffins. She had very strong views about staying healthy and I dared not to argue with her. I, on the other hand, strolled around our shoebox apartment aimlessly as I got dressed for our morning jog. There was nothing more refreshing than the sounds of the city.

Sweet, sweet bliss!

We didn't go jogging at Central Park, because that was too mainstream. Instead, we circled around the neighboring blocks to get the real feel of Manhattan. On our way we'd greet the florist, baker and sweet old Mrs. Hannigan who always knew a little too much about everything.

We got back home, showered together then she got ready for work. She was a first-year lawyer at Hastings-Miller, and she had the wits and brains for it.

'I'll see you tonight', she said as she kissed me and left for work.

The moment she was out of the door, I got into my sweatpants and favorite Ed Hardy t-shirt, grabbed my camera and went about exploring the city. It was a little too sunny for my liking, but the lighting was every photographer's dream. Overall, it seemed like a lively day.

I'd snap pictures of random people, billboard signs, cars, the dizzyingly tall skyscrapers that lined New York... basically anything that tells a story from the perfect angle. I had an exhibition at the Burdois Art Gallery at the end of next month, and I still had no idea what pictures I'd be exhibiting. I wanted to capture New York the way I saw it with my naked eye. I haven't been able to achieve that with my camera lens just yet. I was having a serious case of photographer-block. All I needed was one good shot to get my engines roaring and ignite the passionate flame that seemed to be dying down recently.

After about thirty minutes or so, I decided I needed more caffeine in my system. I walked around the corner to this antique coffee shop that I loved.

To my surprise, my future sister-in-law, Madison, was at the counter getting coffee.

'Killian, what are you doing here?', she was surprised to see me too.

'Getting coffee, nerd', I teased her.

Madison was the exact opposite of Claire. She was more conservative – the strictly bookish type with dark hair and accessorized with her dorky looking glasses. Claire, however, was a wild party animal who wasn't ashamed to flaunt what she's got. I don't even know how those two were twins, or even related. Other than the fact that they were both smart beyond their years, they couldn't be more polar opposites.

'So, how's the new job?', I asked her after I ordered my coffee.

Madison started working as a personal assistant about a couple of months ago in this big, hotshot ladies' magazine called "Femme". She took it as an opportunity to jump-start her career in the world of journalism. She was a pretty good writer and had a lot of potential – she simply needed her lucky break.

She sighed heavily and frowned.

'I'm not sure if I'll have a job after today. Miss Fernandez's assistant is coming back today from maternity leave. I bet she can't wait to kick me out', she explained.

She looked forlorn and seemed to have the weight of the world on her shoulders.

'Come on! She can't be that bad', I tried to reason with her.

'You clearly haven't met the woman. She is like a modern day Athena. It's her way or the high way', she said with panic evident in her voice.

I couldn't help but chuckle.

There was something so fascinating about the hierarchy of women and how they treated each other. It is a well-known fact that all men can agree upon; we may not fully understand women but we have them all figured out by the way they treat each other.

In a woman's world, every other woman is a threat. Be it her mother, daughter, sister, best-friend, boss, assistant or anybody else; they always regard the other female as the "other woman". Every woman is a bubble of insecurities and they just love popping each other up. It was a war; survival of the fittest, smartest and sexiest. No matter how much they try to deny it, we all know it's true.

'Glad my miseries amuse you', Madison said, clearly annoyed at my chuckle.

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. But if it were me, I'd just go up to her and ask her if I still had a job or not', I told her.

'You really think so?', she asked as she adjusted her glasses.

'I do. If anything, she could actually admire your courage for being so blunt.'

I could tell she was thinking long and hard about my words. She stared blankly at the floor. She shifted her gaze at me as she made up her mind.

'I have to go. If I'm late, she'll definitely fire me', she said as she bolted for the door.

I stared at the swaying door she left behind and, for some reason, my muses were urging me to follow her and start a new adventure. They pushed me really hard I almost stumbled upon my own feet. I knew better than to question my muses.

I knew Madison didn't work far from here. I kept a safe distance between us, and snapped pictures of her hurrying to work and stumbling upon life's hurdles. First, she struggled with some gum that was stuck in one of her heels. Then, a man on the bicycle nearly run her over if it weren't for a falafel stand that steadied her. And to top it all off, she spilled about half the cup of coffee that she was supposed to deliver to her boss. She was really clumsy, and took almost forever to reach her destination.

She eventually stood by the door of yet another dizzyingly tall skyscraper, waiting for her boss. I stood behind a light pole so that she couldn't see me. I snapped a couple of pictures of her while she waited. We would have a good laugh about this later. She kept on checking her watch every now and then before a shiny black Mercedes parked in front of her.

What came out the car was a jaw-dropping vision of beauty. The first thing I saw were those slender yet toned pale legs that fit perfectly into her fancy stilettos. Her waist was petite which gave her the perfect hourglass shape. She dressed in classic formal wear from head to toe, and for some reason I found that incredibly, astonishingly sexy. Her golden locks almost trapped the sunrays between them and seemed like that could flow for days although they were tied up in a fancy ponytail. Her eyes were covered by sunglasses, but I could tell her eyes were just as mesmerizing as the rest of her. She was tall and poised and intimidating. She had a presence about her that demanded respect. She was at the pinnacle of the hierarchy of women.

I think I just had a tiny orgasm.

I couldn't help but snap a dozen pictures or so of her as she scolded Madison for some reason. She walked into the building with grace and confidence – and I could see her no more.

I looked at the pictures on my camera over and over again. For the first time in a while, I felt the tinge of excitement I felt every time I snapped a picture of something incredible. It was almost too good to be true. I finally found what I was looking for; I captured New York.