Number 3

That was all it took for me to become thoroughly infatuated with her. The fact that she had such an unorthodox occupation was enough to have me head over heels in love with Suki Davis.

We spent the next few weeks almost inseparable. She helped me find more permanent lodgings in Berlin with a friend that had a spare room. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. All of a sudden, the lonely city I had occupied now held a purpose and a meaning for me.

****

Each day, I would wake up and eat something quickly before making myself somewhat presentable and rushing out the door to meet Suki. That was the thing about her. She made me relax. Back in London, I never would have left the house without a careful inspection of what I was wearing, how I looked, and what I thought people would think of me. Here, in Berlin, I really had no one to impress. Well, there was of course Suki. But she was more interested in the matters of the mind and of the creative ideas I had than anything dealing with my appearances.

I would meet her just outside her studio every morning and we would walk to wherever she thought she would best be able to accomplish her work for the day. I would buy us coffee and we would sip it along the way.

As she took her pictures, we would make small talk, just getting to know each other more. Sometimes, she would tell stories about where she grew up in a small mid-western town in what she called ‘the middle of nowhere’. Other times, she would teach me things about photography, how to smear the edges of fresh polaroids to make them look like they were glowing or how to capture the sun just right.

*****

It was on a day that our usual continuous conversation had crawled to a pause when I realized just how in love I was with Suki. I had been telling her a story about my mother and how she had been against my ‘escapade’ to Berlin.

Suki was down on one knee, snapping pictures of different brownstone buildings when she spoke up.

“I hate people like that,” she said. “I’m sorry, I do.”

“Hate people like what?”

“People that want to keep others from doing what they want. It’s what drove me away from my family,” Suki explained. She tugged her dark hair up into a ponytail high on her head. “It’s not right.”

“I suppose,” I shrugged. I had never really thought of it that way. “No, no, you’re right. It’s a little… off putting.”

“You don’t have to be so nice about it,” she smiled straightening up. “Every now and again it’s okay to say that shit’s messed up. Just ‘cause you’re British doesn’t mean you can’t swear now and again.”

I could feel a grin creep across my face. “I didn’t want to offend you.”

“Honey,” she smiled touching my cheek. “I’ve been offended in a dozen languages and have been only able to understand four of ‘em. Anything you have to say in English won’t be too new to me.”

“So if I say my mother is a right foul bitch sometimes you wouldn’t think I’m a horrible son?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Quite the opposite, actually. I’d think you were a good son for speaking your mind.”

“Well, then,” I said offering her my arm. “My mother can be a right bitch when she wants to be.”

“Good of you to say,” she smiled as she looped her arm through the crook of my elbow. “Now, I’m starved. Let’s find lunch and then we have plans to make.”

If only I had known that the next few days would be full of adventure.