It had been quiet today, surprisingly enough, usually Christmas Eve is crazy. You would think all the guys that wait until the last minute were at the jewelry stores but a surprising amount hit up the electronics stores too. Some of my best sales came from last minute shoppers. This year it was only slightly busy, and not in my department. Cameras were turning into a niche market since everyone had a 12 megapixel camera in their phone these days. Only the real photography enthusiasts and photographers seemed to gravitate to us any more. It's cool though. I get to talk to people who are really into the craft and art of photography.
I'd been so bored I took out my now tattered copy of Photography Traveler magazine that I'd bought months earlier and went over the articles again. I stopped and read one of my favorites about a photographer who had taken a photo expedition to Georgia, the country, to photograph the culture and landscape. Unlike me living on the outskirts of Athens, in the state of Georgia. The pages of glossy photographs were incredible. Beautiful mountain ranges and green valleys, cities bustling with activity... and her.
The photographer had credited her only by her first name Issabella. Despite the western sounding name, she had the exotic beauty of someone that hails from the crossroads of many diverse locales, Arabia to the south, central Asia to the east, and Europe to the west. Her face by western standards would be very classical, round with large, almond-shaped eyes, full lips that I fantasized must be sweet as honey, and a stoic expression that made westerners wonder what people from other parts of the world were mad about. Understanding that smiling for the camera is a western affectation is hard for a lot of people.
"Mooning over your girlfriend again?"
Wendy, the assistant manager, had sneaked up on me while I leaned on the counter staring at Issabella's face. I stood and flipped the magazine closed.
"Just wondering what it would be like to work with someone like her. Her face, her eyes are... they're amazing."
"Yeah I'm sure it's only her face you're interested in. Since we're only about an hour from closing why not get cleaning so we can be out of here behind the last customer."
Wendy was cool, a mom who had come back to work when the economy got tight. She tended to mother the younger staff that made up the bulk of the employees. She was tough but fair unlike some of the tyrants they'd sent through to manage this place. She and I had talked about my desire to do more with my art degree than I was now which was practically nothing. I got a decent discount on equipment here but I was only submitting nature photos to stock houses and getting pennies in royalties from companies that made postcards and calendars. I'd tried doing a wedding which for me turned into a disaster. I ended up apologizing to the couple more than anything despite their lack of anger. They knew what they were getting into and I'd only been able to manage a few decent photographs of the wedding. I ended up not charging them which was painful because it had cost me a few hundred bucks.
Wendy walked past by my area again on her way back to the office. I must have been daydreaming a little as I dusted the cases and baseboards.
"Maybe you should have asked Santa for her under the tree, and I don't mean for that." She added in a sarcastic tone, her finger pointing sharply at me.
I chuckled. "Oh I have, but the Santa myth was blown for me when I was 8 years old. He didn't bring me a Wii."
"You gotta believe Josh!" Wendy added with a laugh as she went back to the front. We closed up shop and Wendy gave us each a little present as we left, a little box of Christmas cookies and treats.
I'd begun the ride home in a light drizzle which turned to heavy rain as I turned down the road my place. I lived in the in-law apartment of a large family home which suited my lifestyle. The home was owned by a doctor mentor of mom's that had basically retired and did a little teaching. I hadn't been a fan of city life or dorms since leaving school. I was driving along, the wipers beating out a rhythm with the music playing low on the radio, when I saw the movement off the side of the road. It looked like a hitchhiker running under the cover of trees as the sky opened up. I slowed instinctively knowing there weren't any houses for another mile or two and wondered who got caught way out here in the rain. I pulled over to see if I recognized them and they were suddenly beside my car in a flash of coat tails and what appeared to be a duffel bag. The door handle was yanked and I instinctively unlocked it, they jumped into the passenger seat with a rush of water and cold air.
I consider myself as neighborly as the next guy but it seemed a little forward for someone to not even speak before diving into your car. I considered the weather and figured manners could wait until they started to drip dry. They pulled back the hood on their coat and I realized it was a woman with long dark hair, soaked to the roots. There was some indistinguishable muttering and she turned to face me.
My sharp intake of breath caught her attention as she turned to me. She enunciated the 'th' sound slowly. "Thank you."
"I uh..." It was her! She was here! I was beginning to feel light headed and realized I'd forgotten to breath. I gulped several breaths. "Issabella?"
She stiffened slightly her body leaning towards the door. "You know me?" Her voice lilted the accent making her sound afraid. Her hand patted the door for the handle and I held my palm out in a 'wait' motion. I reached behind the seat as she retreated against the door. I dug the magazine out of my backpack flipping through the well worn pages to show her the image. She stood on a mountainside with a range of mountains behind her across a valley, a small city along a river below. She looked at it and squinted.
"I remember." She grinned and nodded then looked up at me. Her smile was beautiful, lighting up her face with surprise. She said something I didn't understand and pointed to the city in the valley. I could only assume that was the name of the place.
"What are you doing wandering a back road in Georgia? I mean, this Georgia, here?"
She just tilted her head and gave me a look without responding. I caught on a moment later, my southern manners figuratively smacking me in the back of the head.
"I'm sorry. I'm Joshua Bishop, call me Josh." I said holding my hand out to her and her expression changed to one of acceptance.
"Issabella Labadze." She gave my hand a quick shake.
I said it slowly to see if I got it. She nodded, a little smirk lifting the corner of her mouth. A truck sped by, the driver honking their horn at me for still being partly on the road.
"Uh, I don't know where you are headed, but my place is just about a mile away and you can get dried off there."
I looked and she was looking closely at my mouth and mouthing words to herself. I smiled and pulled back onto the road and headed home. I pulled into the driveway and then up the side of the house where my apartment was. She looked out the windshield at the house with wide eyes.
"This your home?"
"I just have the apartment here on this side." I laughed. I bolted for the door, unlocked it, and ducked into the living room. Issabella ran in behind me, clutching her bag to her chest.
"Come on in. I'll take your coat, it may need to spread out to dry." Under her coat she wore a flannel shirt, too big for her slim frame, over a pair of jeans and boots more suited for fashion than function. She looked like she'd taken on enough water to sink a boat.
"You look soaked through. Do you have any dry clothes with you?" I nodded at the bag.
"I don't think anything dry." She glanced around and sat on the edge of one of the chairs and opened the bag pawing through the contents. I didn't know the language but I knew swearing when I heard it. "Everything wet. I drop in water when running for shelter."
"Come on. I'll find something." I went into the bedroom and scanned the room quickly, thankful for once that I'm a bit of a neat freak. The bed wasn't hotel fresh but it had been made and I hadn't left any socks on the floor. I went to the dresser and pulled open some drawers and found a pair of sweatpants, sweatshirt, and a tee. I turned to find Issabella in the doorway watching me pile the items on the bed.
