It was one thing to see devastation on the news or in magazines, but was quite another to walk through the scene and witness the destruction firsthand. There were no words to describe what it was like to feel your feet crunching through the broken glass and debris of what used to be someone’s home. Or what you felt as you saw the shock on people’s faces as they realized that everything they’d ever held dear had vanished into thin air, or been crushed into particles of dust. I’d never felt as helpless as I did the day an elderly woman admitted to me that all her family photos and heirlooms had been lost, and I could do nothing but watch as she crumpled to her knees in grief. There was such raw and exposed pain in those first few days after a tragedy, that I often found it hard to shoot. It was virtually indescribable to witness, and almost unbearable to live through.
It probably didn’t help my career that I didn’t enjoy being intrusive. I wasn’t the type of photographer who pushed into people’s faces, piercing their personal space in hopes of getting the money shot. It didn’t bring me joy to photograph the agony of others. After being with them, experiencing it with them, their pain was forever etched in my memory, and I carried it with me wherever I went. I didn’t see the sense, or what good it brought, to expose that pain for all to see.
But then at some point during the recovery, something almost magical seemed to happen. You could literally feel the change in the thick and dusty air. The immediate shock had worn off and people in the community came together in the most incredible of ways. There was a sense of family and strength that was humbling to witness. Every. Single. Time. The focus shifted from each individual’s loss and transformed into the community’s pulling together as a whole to not only survive, but to come back stronger, more resilient, as a more cohesive whole. Experiencing that transformation was in itself worth all the earlier tears and pain.
That was why it had always been my goal on any assignment to look for the beauty amidst all the heartache. Those tiny moments of peace and happiness, like when two friends see each other for the first time after wondering if the other were dead or alive. When panic turned to elation, that was what I wanted to capture. If I could put hope into a photograph where it looked like none existed, I’d have done my job. At least, I’d have done it the way I wanted to.
“Cassie, come in here.” My phone buzzed to life with Nora’s voice over the intercom.
I pressed the flashing red button and responded, “Be right in.” I rose from my desk and glanced around the workspace. Joey, the guy I had gone on one date with when Jack and I were broken up, moved away a couple of years ago. He got a job offer back in his hometown of Boston and jumped at the opportunity. Jack had wanted to throw a party when he heard that news. Which I never really understood because, really? It wasn’t as if Jack ever had any real competition.
The faces in my office may have changed over the last five years, but the pace remained the same. The floor buzzed with energy of creative people working on layout, designs, and editing. I loved my job and I loved living in this city.
I rapped my knuckles against Nora’s door before twisting the knob and pushing it open. She waved me over and pointed for me to sit, her phone pressed tightly against her ear. I did as she asked and waited patiently. Ever since I moved to New York to accept the job offer with this magazine, Nora had always had my back. She supported me when Jack and I went through hell with Chrystle’s accusations and the backlash that followed. She even offered to do a full spread on our relationship, just to set the record straight.
In the end, we didn’t need to go through with the feature spread because Chrystle’s ex-best friend Vanessa did all the dirty work for us. Vanessa gave an exclusive interview to the magazine and spilled every detail of Chrystle’s plan to use a fake pregnancy to manipulate Jack into marrying her. My reputation got a much needed-boost, and the fans stopped their incessant name-calling and online hatred of me. Actually, the article had proved to be the best publicity for my relationship with Jack, and I had both Nora and Vanessa to thank for that.
“I’ll have them for you by the end of the day. Thanks, Bob.”
Nora dropped the handset onto the phone base, then leaned back and raised an eyebrow at me. “So, did you choose a photograph yet?”
I winced. “I’ve narrowed it down to five. That’s better than yesterday,” I said, thinking back to the thirty pictures I had scattered on the conference room table yesterday afternoon.
“Jesus, Cassie, just pick one! I’m sure they’re all brilliant. Hell, take them home to that hot husband of yours and make him choose,” she said with a hearty laugh.
My mouth dropped open. “I’m not making Jack pick! He’d probably close his eyes and see which one his finger lands on.”
Nora narrowed her eyes at me. “Which is what you’re going to have to do if you don’t choose one by the end of the day.”
“Fine. I’ll pick one,” I said with a slight huff.
Nora pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up against the bridge of her nose while she stared at me with a smirk on her face.
“What are you up to?” I asked warily. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Her smirk turned into a full smile. “I need you to photograph an upcoming feature story.”
I cocked my head to the side, knowing full well we had other photographers to handle that type of shoot. Each photographer had a specialty. Some excelled at taking indoor studio shots with models, but I wasn’t one of them. I worked best with natural light and unconventional settings, pretty much the exact opposite of a posed studio photo. “Like someone local? Who? Why me?”