Catwalk

07. Its only superstition.

We are in an Italian restaurant. It's really posh and I'm sure it would be something that we couldn't afford if it wasn't because I found an offer on the internet.

Granny Josie is talking about some Italian soldiers who had a base near her house when she was a teenager. We had to remove the wine of her side, otherwise the conversation would turn to adults in less than five seconds.

Dad is happy. Not precisely for me, he continues with his misgivings on the subject of modeling. It's not helping that I always come tired or with something to complain about after classes.

It's hard, and that is not yet a real job, just preparation. I just tell him that he was right and this demanded more than I thought at first.

Cohen and Mads are the reason for my father's happiness. I suppose he has always seen my best friend as an unquestioning adherence to this family. It's like that since I can remember, even when Mom was still with us. With Madeleine and my father happens the same thing that with him and Cohen, they understand each other easily. For this reason, my father has always cared for her and for what her future would be like. "We should toast to the new beginnings, are you sure the drinks are included?" My father makes us all laugh, although I'm not sure we're all as happy if they make us wash the dishes as payment.

The waiter assigned to our table comes to take the orders. I don't recognize him at first because very far from the last time I saw him, he is wearing a black suit, a white shirt and a wine-colored bow tie. "Ready for the culinary experience of your lives? As a waiter, I'm forced to say this, but as a person I don't expect you to take it literally." It is that simple and natural humor that makes me identify him quickly. "Elliot? I thought you were a photographer." The whole table is watching me so I think I owe them a brief explanation. "He's Elliot, he was the photographer who took the pictures for my portfolio, do you remember that I mentioned that he was a genius?" Cohen has an expression of being about to say something that will ruin my social life, so I raise my hand as a signal to shut up before he starts.

Elliot fiddles with the IPad for the orders in the same way that I've seen him do with his camera. "No, go ahead, I know. Waiter of high standing is not as good in my curriculum as some would believe ... but what I'm going to do, the cameras do not pay for themselves." He smiles at everyone and adjust his glasses. "It turns out that no matter how prestigious the modeling agency is, it's not in accordance with the salary, and it's not even my aspiration ... Don't judge me ..." He pauses briefly to give me a kind gesture that instead of comforting me it makes me stir a little uncomfortable in my chair. Elliot seems to be a person without filters, so I'm not sure what he'll say next. "... The fashion world seems pretty dumb to me, but it's prestigious to get some publishers there and then jump on something else." Elliot shrugs while almost one hundred percent of the table agrees to his words.

"And what are your aspirations, boy?" I can not believe it's my father who is doing this. "Dad, Elliot is working ..." I bite my lip hard as everyone throws me reproachful looks, even Granny Josie. "Let the young man talk, maybe he wants to join the navy. They've photographers there, too, did you know that Bonnie?" I roll my eyes, but Cohen burst out laughing from which it is difficult not to get infected.

"Well ... I really want to travel around the world and show a perspective of countries, cities, towns and their people that nobody has shown before. I'd capture everything casual, not prepared or posed. I don't know, I aspire to show life as such I see her, naked beauty, the incredible of every little thing." He releases a sigh after his speech, we are all looking at him as if the experience of the day had just passed.

"Are you free of your various jobs next weekend?" Madeleine doesn't care about being direct and less about boys. "I'd love to say yes, but it turns out that I've something for that weekend, we actually have something." He's watching me, but as usual I've no idea what he's talking about. I haven't invited him to go out and I know he hasn't asked me for a date, unless he was in that paper he gave me on the day of the photo shoot ... but who asks for a date assuring that I will need it some point? Weird, weird.

In view of my dumb face, Elliot's limited to tell me that if I checked my email. "No, no internet at the table, it's one of the rules of family dinners." I give myself a soft tap on the forehead because I don't believe that I've said something so embarrassing in front of someone who isn't family.

After all the drama Elliot finally has the opportunity to tell us the menu. Everyone takes their time to choose, so I take the opportunity to check my email.

Indeed, the first message in my inbox contains the address of the modeling agency. The email is sent by Malcolm and I feel again as my stomach gives little jumps without me being able to control it. The subject is clear "Zett Management Model New Faces Presentation Party". The date is also, next Saturday. I'll not be able to go to the concert.

I decide not to say anything so we can have a nice dinner. At the time of the account Elliot passes me another note.