Not sure why I expected black and crimson with lots of velvet and leather, like the lair of a gothic vampire.
This is cozy and chic, with snowy white bedding, a dozen pillows to get lost in, and a chandelier hanging over the center. A white and gray patterned rug bridges the gap between the bed and a charcoal, button-tufted couch.
Silver umbrellas are set up to redistribute the spotlight, and my instincts shout for me to head toward the darkest area possible.
Eniola hefts her camera, peering through the finder and adjusting the lens. “Where do you want to start? Couch or bed?”
Not to sound like I’m on a date, but already? Can’t a lady enjoy a drink before disrobing? “I’m not sure. Decisions give me hives.”
She lowers her camera and gives me an encouraging smile, assuring me she’s got me. She promises I’m going to be blown away by the photos, I just have to trust her for the next hour, and that doesn’t seem so bad.
I’m not ready.
Suddenly, I hear the words of encouragement Grandma Helen would always reply with when I spoke my fears aloud.“No one’s ever quite ready for what they need to do. You just do it, and that’s what makes you ready.”
Each clack of my heels reverberates through the space and my veins. I boldly swerve toward the bed, and Eniola begins spouting off instructions. Giving me tricks and tips I feel certain I’m not pulling off, she poses me and fixes stray strands of hair and clicks the button over and over, the shutter getting quite a workout.
Anytime I feel ridiculous or disjointed, jutting my chin or holding my arm at a peculiar angle, I remind myself her area of expertise is taking photos that showcase my features. Another thing that aids our chances of success, I’m phenomenal at following instructions.
Naked and lit on a Friday night.
And my grandmas say I don’t know how to have fun.
…
When I’m handed a note and set of car keys upon leaving the Blushing Beauty photography studio a couple of hours later, I’m a different woman than the one who walked in.
Unbothered by the change of plans, possibly for the first time in my life, I flip my bouncy hair and strut toward Sophia’s silver Cadillac with an extra skip in my step. Beneath the pale pink of my floral pattern, flowy skirt, butterfly sleeve dress, I’m wearing a sheer black bodysuit with purple flowers embroidered along the plunging neckline, and it feels like a secret weapon I now know how to wield.
Between poses, Eniola brought over her camera so she could show me the results of falling into the scene and relying on her instructions versus the awkward, unflattering pictures ruined by overthinking and wonky elbows.
Apologies poured from my mouth, a stream ofsorry’sand promising to do better, but she waved them off and reminded me the session wasn’t about her, but me. We got to chatting about my goals and my passions as we tried out various poses, and before long I was rolling around in the sheets, laughing and tossing my head like a woman as comfortable in her body as I aim to be.
Once I settle behind the wheel of the large sedan and readjust the seat so I’m not wearing my knees as earrings, I eye the many pockets and buttons, pressing a few before finding the one that lowers a pair of designer sunglasses.
Old person vehicle or not, the Caddy accelerates like a damn dream, no noisy engine whining about having to do its only job. With extra horsepower to spare, it’s exhilarating and a pinch frightening, bobbing and weaving through traffic, nary a golf cart in sight.
A/C blasting my face, I crack the window, not minding if I’m cooling the entire outdoors because it creates the perfect cruising temperature.
As I near the intersection that’ll either take me to the retirement village or downtown, frenetic energy whips through me. I happen to have the number of a hot doctor in my phone, or I could go put out the vibes in a nightclub or bar…
I slow and turn down a side street to give me more time to decide, and then another and another until I settle on going where I’m already going.
See. This is why you need to get back to Miami, so you can hang out with people your own age.
Not that I’d done that much when I lived there, but Future Mia’s totally going to reengage in a social and dating life. My emotions flip-flop at the realization that, whether my plans fail or come to fruition, this project wraps up in a little over a month. I haven’t measured my time in tiny increments in a while, but the calculator in my brain whirs.
Four and a half weeks.
Thirty-two-ish days.
Not that long with my grandmas and, since they’re partially responsible for my hyper mood and boost in confidence, I decide to surprise them with how much fun I can be.
Aiming the giant hood of the car toward the community center I’ve frequented since day one, I turn into a lot packed with poorly parked golf carts and squint across the rows until I find a space. I throw the car in park and get ready to let loose and start this weekend off right.
And what better place than Boozy Bingo?
Chapter Twenty-Five
