The Photographer (Ignazio Boschetto Fanfiction)

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

        I liked the Christmas concerts. The stages had beautiful decorations, with huge Christmas trees, white Christmas lights, and festive red and green curtains. The beautiful arrangements allowed for creative photography, and I liked being able to incorporate the Christmas props into the pictures. The boys handed out candy canes to people in the crowd during the concert, and the people at the concerts were always cheery and loved to sing along with the familiar songs.

          I also loved being back in the U.S., my home, and I liked always being somewhat familiar with where we were stopped. Being from Florida, I was accustomed to hot summers and mild winters, so when we stopped in Colorado and snow started to fall, my breath was taken away by its beauty.

I loved to go out and get pictures of the different places we stopped in the wintertime, though the cold was bitter and harsh to me. I would bundle myself up and go out with my camera, tolerating the cold as I ran on foot through the freezing cities and countrysides. My fingers would go numb, my cheeks and nose turned a bright red, and my breath would be apparent in the freezing winter air, but nothing could stop me from getting my landscapes. My laughter and the sound of my lonely high-tops on cement and crunching snow echoed throughout the quiet cold atmospheres of the cities in the early mornings and late evenings.

I captured the cold, bare beaches in Florida, the white-tipped mountains in Colorado, Christmas tree forests in Michigan, and the extravagant holiday decorations in Las Vegas. The winter landscapes and decorations made for brilliant photography, and Ignazio was always eager to welcome me back from my outdoor winter romps with blankets and hot chocolate. We would sit together as I defrosted and reviewed my photos, storing them and letting him look through them, savoring his wonder at the scenes I had captured.

In December we stopped for several for several days in New York, and I secretly made arrangements and agreements with a printing company, anticipating receiving my T-shirt and poster prototypes. On the day I was to pick them up, I woke up early, excitement coursing through me as I passed the printouts of my designs on the hotel kitchen table.

The boys would soon be going to the concert theatre they were performing in, and they expected me to go to it sometime during their rehearsal to observe the stage and find some good places for concert photos. I got dressed and pulled on my red coat and scarf, slipping out of the hotel with my camera before any of them were probably even awake. I walked down the gradually lightening street in the cold morning air, my high-tops tapping briskly against the cement. The city was busy despite it being so early; cars, taxis, and bicyclists rushed by noisily as I hurried along on my mission, focused on getting to the printing company.

*****

I hopped out of the taxi and ran up to the theatre rising up above me into the sky. I ran up the steps clutching the packages to my chest within my coat, my high-tops a brilliant red blur as I dashed forward. I pulled open the heavy front door and ran inside, my shoes echoing in the hallway as I sprinted into the huge theatre.

I was surprised to find it mostly empty, except for the men moving around on the stage setting up for the evening concert. I looked around and started toward the stage, hunting for the boys or Michele or Barbara.

“BOYS!?” I called breathlessly, pausing to listen for an answer.

One of the stagehands straightened and pointed toward the backstage, and I nodded and started forward again, hurrying down the aisle and up the stage steps. I paused at the top, watching a stagehand setting up a Christmas tree.

“Move it over there,” I directed, pointing to another spot on the stage. “It’ll make for better photos.”

“And who are you?” he asked condescendingly, raising an eyebrow at me.