Chapter 3

Giovanni

I always watched Adira's photojournal entries when she posted them online so I was able to keep up with most of her shoots as she vlogged quite a bit of them.  But seeing the final photos was something entirely different.  I listened to her talk about each shoot and was glad to see her smiling and laughing as she told me her stories.  She had finally been making really good progress with her anxiety and it was really starting to show in her work and what she was capable of doing.  She had been participating in more of them in front of the camera again and had even picked up a few side jobs there, which didn't really surprise me as she'd been doing that more and more.  

I picked out several to get prints enlarged for the office. I had sold the last set she'd brought back from her trip to Alaska. Clients and associates alike would ask about the photos and after her second destination trip we had both agreed that I would allow them to buy them when she brought a new set, but that she had to take the profit. She agreed only if I took a 10 percent brookerage f*e, which I did, but directed the funds to the charity division.

Adira was like a daughter to me now.  I wish she could have met my love, my wife before her passing.  She had always wanted a girl and she would have adored Adira.  I remember the first time I had met her - she had been our youngest applicant, having worked hard and skipped two grades.  At not quite 16 she stood before our panel and shared how she wanted to share the beauty of the world with other children and people like herself - those who couldn't afford to travel and who had used photos and stories of far off corners of the world to imagine a better life for themselves.  She had lost her mother the year prior and never knew her father and yet you would never have known based on the confidence she exuded.  

When we had met with her again to present her with her scholarship and grant package, she had actually cried, being so excited.  You could tell she brought so much light to those around her and I had no doubt that she would be able to do that through her photography.  It had broken my heart when I saw her in the police station that night 6 years ago.

But she was forging ahead now, years of therapy and her alter ego helping her bloosom.  She had some of the most lucrative contracts around the world and still set time aside to do things like senior pictures, pictures for the animal shelters, as well as pictures for DHS and children up for adoption.  Her heart was as big as ever. 

I knew she had a busy next few months - we had some joint charity events, plus the opening of her gallery and all of her pre summer and summer shots.  She traveled so much these days but she was happy and that's all I wanted for her.  I was always glad that she made time to see me when she was home.  After her first million she actually bought a place not far from my house with a large barn that she had converted to a photography studio.  I'd help her find the contractors - wanting to make sure she didn't get taken advantage of- but she paid for it all with her money and was so proud of it.  

She usually still stayed her first day back with me.  She siad it was for comfort and so she could show me her work, but I felt it was more about loneliness.  Here she had me and the staff but at home it was just her and Charlie.  She had been a very outgoing girl before but now, outside of her work, she spent very little time around others.  

I kept hoping over the last few years that she would make some real friends or even meet a nice boy but many didn't look past her 'messy photography genius' persona that she wore like armor - baggy cargo pants and oversized shirts or hoodies or the occasional vest with her hair thrown up in a messy style and her large glasses on.  And honestly if they couldn't see the gem that was under that then they didn't deserve her.