It was the moment. Not the first kiss or the two years that followed. It was the moment the pattern began.
I used the camera as permission. The lens provided distance that felt like safety. I could want someone while pretending it was only professional interest.
I closed the old files and ran a search on my current project.
Pickle.
Forty-nine clips. Twenty-eight minutes of focused footage.
I scrolled through the thumbnails. Pickle laughing. Pickle listening to Heath. Pickle alone by the glass. Pickle catching my eye across the ice, his smile aimed directly at the lens.
See me, that smile had said.I dare you.
The 85mm sat in my gear bag across the room. It was the lens I'd used on Theo. The one I'd packed for this trip without examining why.
My pattern wasn't only about falling for subjects. It was about giving someone else the raw materials to tell a story I didn't want told. My professional competence became a weapon I handed to people who didn't care what they destroyed.
With Theo, I hadn't seen it coming. I'd been twenty-nine and stupid.
This time I knew.
I could see the pattern while I was still inside it.
One hour and forty-three minutes.
My phone buzzed. My stomach dropped—probably Naomi.
I was wrong.
Pickle:desrosiers snores like a dying walrus. jake keeps throwing cheese puffs at him. I am surrounded by chaos and somehow I am not the cause of it. personal growth???
I read the message three times.
He was on a bus somewhere in Ontario, texting me about cheese puffs, while glowing with the aftermath of seven points and a plus-eight. It was the best hockey road trip of his life. He had no idea that while he slept against a window, dreamingabout goals, I'd been examining the ways I'd already betrayed him.
I typed a response.
Adrian:Sounds like you're growing as a person. Proud of you.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Pickle:did you just say you're proud of me??? who are you and what have you done with mysterious brooding documentary guy? can't wait to see you. bus gets in around 3. meet me at the rink?
My breath caught.
Adrian:I'll be there.
Pickle:good. I have STORIES. also I think I'm becoming a responsible adult? it's very confusing. we should discuss.
I put the phone face down on the nightstand.
He trusted me. I kept coming back to it. He trusted me with his chaos and his fear and the soft parts he usually hid behind jokes. He'd kissed me like he couldn't get enough. Looked at me like he couldn't bear to look away.
He didn't know what I'd done, which meant he didn't know who I really was.
One hour and twenty-six minutes.
The easy path was obvious. Wait and see. Let the process play out. Greet Pickle at the bus with a smile and a performance that said nothing was wrong.
