“On more time, Gaspi. We need you to look here, ok?”. The boy nodded, showed his gapped tooth smile and posed badly again. The photographer sighed in frustration, giving a nod to the boy’s mother to come and talk to him; Claudia lifted him off her skirt and handed him to his mother. The new attempt yielded the same results. Claudia asked Gaspi if he liked dogs. The boy nodded. Then she asked him if he liked horses: the boy nodded enthusiastically. “If we finish these pictures soon, I can take you home with me so you can meet my dogs and horses, would you like to do that?”. It took Gaspi a couple of seconds to concentrate, but then he posed for the remaining pictures without any problems. He even got some compliments when he started playing with Claudia’s hair for the ones they shot on the terrace. “Careful Gaspi, my hair’s very delicate”, she said to the boy while holding her pose.
For the photos of the living room and kitchen they were joined by Michael, who played Gaspi’s father and Claudia’s husband. He walked very confidently into the apartment, but it took only one photo to reveal that it was the first time he had served as a model for a real estate agency. He knew how to look good, to stand out himself or the clothes he was wearing, but being a mere complement to what surrounded him didn’t come naturally to him. Claudia ended up giving him advice: to concentrate on one of the little tables with ornaments, lamps or whatever was in front of him, or to focus on the tasks he pretended to be doing instead of how he saw himself performing them. The morning went by and little by little Gaspi gave in to what they were asking of him and Michael ceased to run into his own way. Claudia looked at the time on her wristwatch: if they continued at a good pace, she could reach the lunch hour at the Bistro Fada, the café where she always ate after the sessions. The place had a very strict policy about serving dishes after lunch, something they emphasized as much as the origin and freshness of their ingredients.
The photographer announced that he wanted to repeat the ones shot in the living room: the morning light seemed to him a bit too strong, so he wanted to try again with the lighting at noon. Michael asked for a moment to go to the bathroom, which was seized by the producer to call his model aside. “Claudia, I know we can’t do anything right know, but I’ll need you to brush up your dye” she said, taking her arm as a support point to talk into her ear. Since it wasn’t much, they could fix it in Photoshop, but she had to keep it in mind: if she wanted to be called back, they needed her to stay perfectly blonde. Claudia nodded, promised that she would see to it as soon as they finished the session. The producer looked at her from head to toe, without blinking. Clawing her thigh, she caught and removed a lint from the cream-colored dress she had selected for Claudia to use at the session.
They took a couple more pictures. The photographer announced that they were better but that he was still dissatisfied. The producer’s response was to stand in front of him with his arms on his hips and her lips, cracked from dehydration as they were, tightened with fury. “You’ll have to figure that out yourself, ‘cause we ain’t got any more time”. The photographer hanged his head. No one moved or said anything for a few seconds. The rumbling of the excavators and cranes working against the clock to finish the pool slipped through them. Claudia confirmed her suspicions: the apartments were badly isolated. But her job was not to prove the quality of the buildings, but to illustrate the life they offered to their lucky owners. Michael approached her and after praising the work they had just done, asked if she could tell him the time. Claudia lifted up the sleeve of the light blue blouse they had given her and put her watch close to his eyes. “Nice, but could you tell me the time?”. Claudia withdrew her wrist and after giving it a quick glance, hid it behind her waist, ashamed. “How ‘bout dinner, somewhere ‘round here?”, asked Michael. Apologizing, Claudia thanked him for the invitation, but said that she already had other plans. Without missing a beat, Michael rescheduled the invitation for the evening. Claudia glanced over his shoulder: the producer was guiding the dismantling of the space, putting the ornaments in boxes or climbing onto a chair to unhook the paper screens from the lights. Michael moved his head until it crossed the path of her gaze. Claudia smiled and told him that she would confirm his invitation in the afternoon, passing by to seize a moment when the producer seemed idle. Before she even said anything, the woman interposed an open hand, fingers extended like a spider, between them. “Gimme a second, Clau. I badly need a smoke”, Claudia pointed to the fire alarm over their heads. “Don’t listen to that, they’re all broken. Talk to me… ah, your money, yes. I’ve got it over here… where the fuck is my purse!».
Claudia received an unsealed envelope with several bills inside. The producer told her that they were accurate and that it was not necessary for her to count them, but she counted them anyway. Michael passed between the two women without asking their permission, stopping a short while before setting foot on the stairs to tell Claudia that they had not exchanged numbers. “Clau? This guy’s talking to you”, said the producer, grabbing her by the wrist and interrupting her count. Michael wished them luck and went down the stairs. “He’s hot, that guy. Thick as a brick, though. Take him down for some ribs and he’ll be happy as a child”, the producer advised her. Claudia smiled, then asked her if she needed back the clothes she was wearing. “Don’t worry, you’ll be wearing them again for the next session. I want them clean and ironed, ok?”.
Claudia managed to get to the café 15 minutes before the lunch hour was over. The owners and staff knew her by sight: she was one of their regular clients. But that didn’t mean they were going to be making any exceptions. She waited impatiently to learn the identity of her dish – a salmon with capers accompanied by hydroponic lettuce – which she didn’t take long to photograph. “Do you want me to take it? So you can be in it”, a waitress that was passing by her table asked her. Claudia refused, vaguely explaining that the photo wasn’t for her. To the main course she added a tiramisu with wildberries and a double espresso, specifying that she wanted Italian coffee beans. Each stage of the lunch was duly portrayed. Claudia looked at her watch: she could stay between an hour and an hour and a half longer. Calling the waitress, she asked if she could calculate the bill for her. She kindly corrected her, saying that she was bringing the bill right away, but Claudia stopped her: she didn’t want to pay, only to know how much she owed. The waitress walked away somewhat confused, coming back with the number on her lips. Claudia thanked her. When she had lost sight of her, she took the envelope out of her pocket, rested it on her legs and started to count the bills.
Several hours later, Claudia passed through the maid entrance that her brother had provided her. She crossed the small inner courtyard, hiding in between the towels and the hanging clothes until she reached her cabin. She had to be careful with the door, as not to hit the unhung pictures (one with dogs, the other with horses) that were leaning against the wall. She left the shopping bags on her bed, extracting the «Norwegian blonde» hair dye from her purse. She went to leave it over the toilet, which also acted as a shelf, then swapped the light blue blouse and the cream dress for her household clothes. She returned to find her nephew waiting for her at the door: “My father says that dinner’s ready”, said the 10-year-old boy, with light brown hair and feminine features, identical to those of his father, offering a hand to guide her to the banquet. Claudia accepted it, asking for just a moment so she could reach her phone. She had left an answer to Michael’s incessant messages hanging.
The boy led her to her sit between himself and his mother. In front of Claudia sat her brother, who greeted her by lowering his head and saying Sister. The menu was fried chicken with chips, presented in the oil-stained paper boxes in which it had been bought. Claudia lost her appetite immediately. She only took one drum stick and a couple of fries. Sofia, his brother’s wife, offered if she didn’t prefer to have it shredded. Claudia looked for her brother’s approval, who avoided her sight. As she handed the dish to her sister-in-law, she felt the phone vibrating in her pocket. Sofia also noticed it: both women crossed a complicit gaze, forgetting for a moment how old they were and where they were. The boy’s insistence on asking his mother to cut the chicken for him brought them back. Claudia inquired to her brother about his day: “Same as always. Office jobs are like that. And yours? Did you work today?”. Her joints hurt from how hard she squeezed her fork. Her anger was not so much over her brother’s comments as over her own reaction, over the way they continued to provoke her after so many years. Instead of answering, she plunged into her phone and accepted Michael’s invitation to go and get wasted, as he had described it.
Sofia asked Claudia to help her pick up the dinner table: the boy and his father needed the space to go over the schoolwork. They took the few dishes they had used to the kitchen. Sofia left them soaking while she threw away the leftover chicken. Claudia offered to take the thrash out, but Sofia told her not to worry. “Better tell me about today’s photos”, she said, knotting the black bag full of rubbish, and then using the plastic bucket as a seat. Claudia described all the details and adornments that the producer had deployed by the apartment, took out her phone and showed her the salmon she had eaten for lunch. “I can only imagine how good that must have been”, said Sofia, licking her lips. They laughed. Claudia also told her about Gaspi, who couldn’t stay put, and about Michael, who she thought was handsome, although a little thick. “And will you be seeing him again?”, asked Sofia, opening her eyes wide and giggling like a child when Claudia showed her his WhatsApp messages.
Using the maid entrance, the two women slipped into the little cabin, where Claudia showed her that day’s shopping. Sofia sat down on the toilet bowl, from where she shared her opinion on the combinations of clothes for the date. Claudia let herself be carried away by the game, traversing the three meters of space she had as if they were part of a catwalk, until she inadvertently showed her the light blue blouse and cream skirt she wore for the session. Sofia singled them out as the most obvious choice, feeling very confused when she noted that her childhood friend grew weary. Claudia sat on her bed, throwing the set of clothes towards the corner where her paintings remained unhung. “You know, I better not go anywhere. Why am I fooling myself by toying with this life. If I just…”, Sofia interrupted her on the spot. Sitting next to her, she took her hands and told her that if she didn’t go, no one else would. Claudia looked puzzled, but Sofia just wished her an amazing night, and then told her that she was going back to help her husband with his son’s chores and to finish with the dishes. “Wait, Soph. Here”, said Claudia, digging for the envelope. Sofia checked it out. A soon as she realized what it contained, she refused it. “How many times have we told you it’s not necessary, Clau?”, she said, but Claudia insisted. Sofia changed the tactic: she told him to use the money in her date. Claudia told her not to worry, as she was sure that her expenses would be fully covered. Sofia finally cave in, hiding the envelope in the pocket of her kitchen apron.
“How’s the loony?”, her husband asked her when Sofia came to his side, causing the boy to wonder who the looney was. “Your mother, son. Your mum’s the looney”, she replied, kissing him on the cheek. The boy resumed his chores. Sofia looked at her husband, who sighed and corrected the result of one of his son’s sum. On the table remained the glasses with water and the cup with the remnants of her husband’s Nescafé. Holding them two by two in each hand, Sofia took them to the kitchen. As she washed them, she spotted Claudia on her way out. She was wearing the light blue blouse and the cream dress as if they belonged to her. Knocking on the kitchen window, Sofia draw her friend’s attention. They both stared for a moment, smiling at each other. After the moment passed, Sofia returned to her life and Claudia to hers.
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