One Hit Wonder by Denyse Cohen Read Free Book Online Page A

So she was, mostly, a stay-at-home mom with big dreams.”
    He was staring at her. Disconcerted, she returned her gaze to the ceiling and said, “Growing up, I was her business partner.” Audrey smiled. “She told me about the value of work and how it can dignify even the most hopeless of souls. She never accepted just being at home, even when my father had told her he could take care of us and she shouldn’t worry about it. It wasn’t about money for her, which was good, because she never made any. I remember once she decided to make homemade truffles and chocolate-covered candy. Bombons, as they call it in Brazil. She went out and spent over two hundred dollars in tools and supplies, but sold only sixty dollars worth of chocolate. My father and I ate truffles for weeks.”
    “I wouldn’t mind that.”
    “Oh, I didn’t. Not at all. Except for seeing her face afterwards. She never said anything but I could see the disappointment in her eyes.”
    The noise from the air conditioner took over the room again as they lapsed into silence.
    “You still haven’t told me what you wanted to do.”
    “I … .” She let out a sigh and offered him a vague smile. She could have told him she wanted to be a photographer, but she knew it wasn’t the truth. She still didn’t know what she wanted. She knew she didn’t want to spend years doing a job she hated or marry a boyfriend she didn’t love, and most certainly, she didn’t want to stumble through life anymore.

Chapter 8
    Photographing the band with an injured foot had proved more challenging than she’d anticipated. After one week, she finally removed the stitches in a Minute Clinic on their way to Tuscaloosa, where the band was going to have the last gig on Saturday before heading out to Texas. She still felt a pinch of pain at every step, but she didn’t hesitate to walk normally anyway, afraid her leg would atrophy from lack of use. It was an absurd fear, but it had been subconsciously imprinted on her mind from knowing a beloved aunt wasted away to her death after becoming paraplegic in a car accident in Brazil.
    Over the past few days, John’s animosity had transformed into something else. He still stood away, towering over everyone like a centenary oak tree when Kevin and Tyler were showing off or competing for her attention. But now she could escape the noise and join him in his quietness. He no longer fled.
    They had arrived in Tuscaloosa on Wednesday, and the next day she woke early to survey the town and work on her own photography. After her conversation with John, she’d decided photography was no longer going to be only an avocation. The early hours of the morning had its advantages: the light was beautiful and she could be alone. Completely alone.
    “I was looking for you.” John was sitting on the stairs that led up to the second floor of the hotel, when she got back at eleven.
    “I was photographing some places around town.” She wasn’t sure what her professional inclinations were yet, but nature wasn’t her forte. Not because she didn’t like it or appreciate its beauty, but because anything short of Edward Weston was not even worth pursuing. Perfectionism and indecisiveness had proven to be a bad combo. She was drawn to people, everything about the human presence intrigued her. Even when determined to photograph the historic centers of the little towns they drove through, she’d find herself taking pictures of graffiti on building walls, interesting bystanders, or pie displays inside run-down diners.
    “Cool. Anything good?”
    “Oh, the usual. I’m still looking for…inspiration.” She felt embarrassed about the truth. She walked around with her D90 furtively pressing the shutter at the things she saw, but she ached for meaning — for her images, for her life.
    “It will come to you.” John nodded as if he understood the subtext. “Listen, I found out about this little museum they have here. It’s called the Westervelt, and