Ana lowered the camera and looked quite serious. “Of course, Jerry. Whatever conditions you apply I will abide by.”
“It’s not too tough—just don’t get carried away with pictures of me. Capture the world around us and every once in a while let me snap one or two of you.”
“That is two conditions, Mr. Powell, and not particularly easy ones to abide by… but your wish is my command.” She immediately raised the camera to her eye and, giggling, snapped a picture of him.
“The word ‘incorrigible’ comes to mind when I think of you, young lady.”
“Pierre, my tutor, often said the same thing. Neispravimyy, incorrigible, unverbesserlich. In Russian, French, or German, he said it was all the same. I am afraid that after almost a hundred years, this leopard is not going to change her pyatna—spots. Now… Chinatown?”
“Chinatown it is. Do we know where it is?”
“We do. A five-minute walk.”
“Then let’s go get some green tea or something. Maybe I can find a store that sells antelope toes or some-such as a cure for this shadow in my head.”
“That would be perfect, although I would feel sorry for the antelope, having to run from lions without toes.”
“Then maybe a mandrake root, or sage, rosemary, and thyme.”
“Much better.” She snapped a picture of Sushi, spun quickly and took another one of Jerry as he turned from the open door.
“Ana…”
“Sorry, but you are so handsome.”
He held the door open for her. “Just step out onto the landing so I can lock up, please, Your Imperial Shvibzikness.”
Ana scooped up the Blake book and dropped it into her coat pocket before dancing past Jerry and out of the loft.
THEY STROLLED ALONG Broad Street to Pandora Avenue, walking slowly while Ana marvelled at everything through the eye of the camera. Like a six-year-old, she would capture an image, then look at it on the screen and giggle when it appeared before her in seconds. Jerry got a kick out of seeing things new again through her eyes. Between the cool, crisp air, the chow mein in his belly, and Ana’s enthusiasm, Jerry was feeling almost human by the time they turned north on Government Street.
Ana darted in and kissed his cheek then flitted off again down the sidewalk. “Not far now, Jerry. Fisgard Street is that next intersection.” A moment later she was distracted by the Christmas lights on the trees, the blue-capped parking meters, and the Christmas banners hanging off of the red lamp posts, so Jerry was easily able to keep up.
As they neared Fisgard Street, Ana stopped, ran a few yards ahead, and then zipped back to Jerry. “That gold and red arch up there must be the Gates of Harmonious Interest, the entrance to Chinatown.”
“Since none of the other streets have a gate, I’m going to go along with you on that one.” But Ana was gone again, up to the lamp post on the corner against which she propped the camera, and took a picture of the gate flanked by a pair of guardian Chinese lions, with Quonley’s Grocery on one side, and Ocean Garden Restaurant on the other.
The flash went off, and Ana lowered the camera in frustration. “How do I turn off the flash-light and simply use the natural light?”
The Christmas lights all around made the whole scene sparkle, and Jerry knew exactly what Ana wanted to capture with the camera. “Let me show you.” He held his hand out for the camera, and when Ana handed it back to him, he pointed out the flash button on the front. “Push this to pop the flash up.” He pushed it and the little built-in flash snapped up. “Gently push the flash back down until it clicks, to turn it off.” He clicked the flash back down, then turned the shooting mode dial one position. “The camera will now let you control when the flash is used, but it will still take care of all of the shutter and aperture settings.”
“Marvellous! Thank you.” She kissed him on the tip of his nose and leaned against the post to try the shot again. The flash didn’t go off this time, and Jerry could see her huge grin as she took two more.
“I’m sorry I didn’t bring the tripod.”
“Next time, my Sweet.” She changed her position slightly, snapped three more quick shots, then lowered the camera, took Jerry’s hand, and stepped up to the curb, waiting for the light to change. She looked up at him, worried. “How are you feeling Jerry? I know we have not come far, but I do not want to utomit vas—exhaust you.”
“I’m good, thanks. Just waiting for the egg rolls to kick in and give me the MSG-boost I need. It’s sweet of you to ask.”
“Of course. Why would I not?” She squeezed his hand.
“Some people never do.” Like Haley, or his mother, he thought. This was such a nice change. The traffic light went green and Ana led Jerry across the street, to the Gates of Harmonious Interest. She maneuvered him so that he stood with his back to the Gates, facing her.
“Stand right here and smile, or make a silly face, please.”
Jerry leaned back against the Gates spanning Fisgard Street, folded his arms and stuck out his tongue. Ana quickly raised the camera and pressed the shutter button, then she lowered the camera and looked at the image on the screen. She cursed in Russian then switched back to English. “It is too blurry.” She popped the flash up and raised the camera again. “One more time, please.” Jerry obliged and the staccato red-eye-reduction flash strobe blinded him briefly.
“Youch! Okay, your turn, missy.” Ana handed him the camera and traded places with him.
“Serious or silly?”
“One of each.” Ana struck a goofy pose and Jerry snapped the shot, then she lifted her chin a bit, turned her head slightly, and gave him a regal half-smile. Jerry marvelled at her transformation from silly tourist into Grand Duchess, then snapped the picture. “You’re amazing. Such grace.”
“And you are silly, Mister Powell. I am a clumsy lump with no more grace than a sack of cabbages.”
Jerry shook his head. “I beg to differ. You shine in a way that has nothing to do with your present ‘state of being’.” She took the camera back from him, and he was sure she blushed, if that was possible.
“I am just a girl, out with her man.” She skipped through the gate and into Chinatown.
Jerry followed her, as fascinated by her infectious exuberance as by the curiosities on display in the various storefronts. He supposed she had spent most of her short life surrounded by opulence and exquisite craftsmanship, yet here she was giggling and pointing and sharing her joy at seeing little mock-ivory Buddhas, paw-waving golden plastic cats, and pale-green jade pendants of all shapes and sizes. He put his hand on the small of her back as she leaned against a shop window. She was real, she was here with him, and when she laughed, he felt invincible in her presence. There was something about her that wrapped itself around his heart and made him think that if he let himself love her everything would be all right. And that was the thing—he was pretty sure he was falling in love. He smiled. Who was .
to tell his heart what to do?
“Look at the workmanship on this carving! It is amazing!”
Jerry looked over her shoulder at the tiny mountain village carved out of bamboo and set in a glass and lacquer case no more than eight inches tall and two inches thick. “Wow. What discipline that would take. I wouldn’t have the patience to even make the frame.”
“Oh nonsense, Jerry! Artistry like this does not require discipline so much as it requires lyubit—love. You do not do fine work like this without loving what you do. Our family had a magnificent collection of eggs created by master jewellers and they were clearly done by men and women truly in love with their craft.”