Paparazzi by Erika Vanzin
I’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours since waking up in the middle of the night. I can’t stop thinking about Iris and what she’s doing for her mother. The thought of my sister looking after our sick mother while I was in prison haunts me more than ever. My sister, who hasn’t spoken to me since my mother died, who moved to the other side of the world, started a family, and never once contacted me. Not even through the lawyers who reached out to her, making sure she was doing well.
I deserve it. I deserve all the indifference the people I love the most are showing me. I ruined my life, theirs, and all those who loved me and tried to help me—the ones I dragged with me into the abyss because I didn’t open my eyes in time.
The way Iris takes care of her mother reminds me that I’ve never been there for mine, that I slowly killed her, that I killed my father. The fact that she opened up to me, showing me the most vulnerable side of her family, while I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do the same, makes me feel even worse. The thought scares me, makes my stomach twist, and as much as I know I’m being deceptive, I still hide behind a thousand excuses not to work up the courage to do what’s right.
I look at the alarm clock. It’s a decent time to get up and make some phone calls. When I reach the kitchen and make myself coffee, the first thing I do is call my lawyer and financial advisor and make an appointment related to the management of my estate.
“Hi, do you have time to take a ride with me to Brooklyn this morning?”
The resulting silence, long and full of unspoken words, makes me realize he’s swearing softly. I’m always coming up with absurd demands. “Yes, of course, I can find the time.”
This is an emergency, and, given the number of zeros behind my bank account numbers, I can afford to put some pressure on him. “Perfect, what time can I pick you up?”
“Ten o’clock will be fine.”
I hang up and go back to sipping my coffee, then head to the pantry and grab the pack of vanilla cookies that always put a smile on my face. If I couldn’t do something for my mom, I can always do something good for Iris’s mother. That way she can breathe and focus on what she really loves to do in life: photography and writing.
I’ve always tried not to open my heart to anyone anymore. But now, here I am, obsessed like I’m thirteen and I don’t even know how I got here. Because the reality is that I’ve fallen in love with Iris, and there’s no point in me trying to hide it or make up other explanations. When you worry about someone, when you get mad because she disappoints you, when you want to see her and protect her twenty-four hours a day, you’re completely smitten. There’s no other explanation. I know what it means. Even though I was just a kid, I was in love with Rita. It was an undeveloped, immature love, almost adoration, but no less sincere and profound. What I feel for Iris is different, more settled and sure, but just as impulsive.
When my lawyer gets in the car with a tired smile three hours after our conversation, he’s surprised to see me with coffee for both of us and the excitement of a kid who skipped school.
“Are we going on a road trip?” he asks, accepting the coffee with puzzlement, like Snow White taking the poisoned apple.
“More or less,” I reply vaguely, watching out the window as Max dives into the heavy traffic of south Manhattan.
I can sense him tensing next to me, but I don’t want to explain anything to him before I get there. I already know he’s going to tell me to verify who Iris is, to check her past, to see if what she told me is true or not. All indisputable precautions for someone at risk of fraud, given my financial status, but I don’t want to hear them now. He doesn’t know her the way I do, and maybe I’ll look presumptuous and a little crazy, but I don’t see any dishonesty or premeditation in that girl. Since finding out about her work, I’ve spent hours retracing every single moment we’ve been together, and I can’t recall a single one where I got the impression that she was taking advantage of me.
When we arrive at the clinic, my lawyer gets even more restless and starts to interrogate me, sweating like a lamb at Easter. “Do you have something to tell me? Are you in trouble? You know everything’s confidential between us—you can tell me anything …”
“Calm down. It’s not about me, okay?” I try to reassure him while I stifle a chuckle.
Looking in the rearview mirror, I see Max struggling to hold back a smile. He’s so used to dealing with our craziness he’s no longer scandalized, even at the most absurd requests.
When we enter the clinic, I notice there’s a different nurse than yesterday, and I immediately give her my most disarming smile. Sometimes I feel guilty about using my looks so shamelessly to get what I want. The day will come when I no longer have this face and then I’ll pay for all the times I took this shortcut to achieve my goals.
“Hello, is it possible to talk to the manager, please?”
Her brows furrow worriedly. “Is something wrong? Can I help you in any way?”
The agitation in her voice tells me that maybe I was a little too straightforward. “No, absolutely no problem. I would like to settle the bill for one of your patients, and I would like to talk to someone.”
As she breaks in a gorgeous smile that lights up her face, my lawyer rubs his eyes and sighs with frustration.
“You need to talk to the administration. I’ll call right away to check if they can see you.”
In less than five minutes, I find myself at the door of a small but cute office with a large window that faces the garden and the same cream-colored decor that characterize this clinic. The only pop of color is the bright pink floral dress on the statuesque woman with chocolate-colored hair who gets up and firmly shakes my hand. I smile as soon as I see her, then take a seat on one of the armchairs in front of her desk. My lawyer, next to me, looks as happy as a serial killer waiting for the electric chair. I feel almost guilty for dragging him into this mess without mentioning anything to him.
“So, Mr. Simons, what can I do for you?”
“I would like to settle the bill for one of the patients in this clinic,” I announce, getting right to the point.
“Someone who has died or is planning to change clinics?” She is puzzled.
“Oh, no, she’s still alive and staying here. I just want to...pay the bill.” I realize that the request may seem a little strange.
The woman clasps her hands in front of her on the desk. My lawyer keeps fidgeting in his chair restlessly. “Do you have a date of death, so I can better calculate how much you owe us?” she asks me, raising an eyebrow.
I frown and stare at her with less enthusiasm than before. I don’t like it when people make fun of me, and she’s clearly making fun of me. My lawyer, meanwhile, has sunk into the chair and is covering his entire face with his hand.
“No...I hope later, down the road.”
“Can I at least have the patient’s name? Maybe we can find their payment agreement.” She tries to accommodate my total ignorance.
“The room number is 108. She has a daughter named Iris,” I tell her, losing confidence with every passing minute.
“You don’t even know her name?” my exasperated my lawyer exclaims. I don’t dare look him in the eyes.
“Do you know the daughter’s last name?” she asks, and I shake my head like a little boy who doesn’t have the answer to a test question.
“Not even that, Thomas?” This time I look at my lawyer, who I assume is going to be my former lawyer before the end of the day, and the disbelief on his face is nothing short of comical.
The woman begins to look for information on her computer, then she smiles and turns to me again in less than a minute. “Do you want to make arrangements to contribute to the payment?”
“If that’s the only thing I can do, yes.”
“We have to call Iris, but if there’s no problem with her, I’ll prepare the necessary documents.”
Panic creeps in and squeezes my stomach, making my blood freeze. “Is that necessary? Can’t I make an anonymous donation?”
The woman’s forehead creases as my lawyer leans over to look me in the face, wide-eyed. “Does she even know you’re here?” he asks.
“Not exactly?”
“Yes or no?” he insists.
“No,” I reply in a faint voice, but then I regain my courage looking at the woman. “Is it not possible to do something anonymously?”
The woman inhales deeply and seems to be searching for the words to make me feel more idiotic than I already feel. “Mr. Simons, it doesn’t work like in the movies. You can’t come in here and pay for someone without the person responsible for them knowing anything about it. You can make an anonymous donation to the clinic, but you can’t pay for a patient.”
Anger begins to make its way into my chest at these stupid rules. “But I’m trying to pay for someone. I’m not adding debt to her bill.”
My explanation is met with silence until the woman picks up the phone and dials a number. “I’m calling Iris, so we can solve this problem right away, okay?”
The woman turns her chair around for some privacy, and in the meantime, my lawyer seems to be trying to find the right words to tell me what an imbecile I am. “You know this epic gesture you’re making could cost you a fortune, right?” His expression is almost compassionate, as if he understands something I haven’t realized yet and feels pity for me.
“I’m not poor...so it’s really not an epic gesture. I’m just trying to help her.”
He has no time to reply because the woman in front of me attracts our attention. “You’re lucky. Iris is here, visiting her mom. We can straighten up these details right away.”
Except I don’t feel lucky at all right now, especially not when Iris enters the room in a rampage. “What is your problem?”
She doesn’t even give me time to say hello or react. Even my lawyer shrinks at the fury of this redhead in the room. Her face has become the color of her hair, covering up any freckles that give her the appearance of a young girl. The woman in front of me right now scares me.
“I didn’t bring you here yesterday so you’d pay the bill! I brought you here to let you know why I do that job.”
“I just want to help you. First, you refuse the camera, but you accept the groceries. Now you reject this. How do I know what the hell you want? Why can’t I help you?”
Iris looks at me with an incredulous expression on her face. I forgot there are other people around us. “You really don’t understand, Thomas? Seriously, it doesn’t occur to you why I can accept the groceries but not the rest?”
“No, really. I have no idea why you’re so stubborn all the time. I always feel like I’m walking on eggshells when I’m with you.”
Iris seems dumbfounded by my words. She shakes her head, taking a deep breath, then turns her gaze toward the woman behind the desk. “Please don’t let this braggart pay my mother’s bill.
It’s clear that his ego is so huge he can’t see anyone but himself,” she says calmly before leaving.
The seconds of silence that follow seem to stretch until they seem like hours. When I turn again to the woman in front of me, unsure what to do, she looks at me with a sympathetic smile. “Now do you understand why we don’t allow payments anonymously, and without the consent of the family?”
No, I don’t understand it, just as I don’t understand Iris’s outrageous behavior. She can’t refuse to help her mother simply out of pride.
*
“What did you do this time?” Lilly greets me with a scolding gaze and her arms crossed.
I walk into her apartment when she steps aside, and I find Damian sitting on the couch with a notepad on his knees, a pen in his hand, and an amused smile as he looks at me.
“Nothing, why should I always be the one who does something wrong?” My answer reflects all the irritation I still feel since fighting with Iris at the clinic.
Lilly motions for me to sit on the sofa next to her boyfriend, then she fills a cup with coffee that she hands to me, and I gladly accept. I couldn’t be more nervous right now. A little more caffeine won’t make a difference.
“Because you came here to talk, and your face is halfway between a furious man and a beaten dog. You’ve definitely done something.”
I inhale deeply and take a long sip from my cup then start telling them what just happened. As I get on with the story, Lilly’s face looks increasingly disbelieving and Damian starts laughing his head off. They are not helping right now. I need comfort.
“Have you become stupid overnight, or were you born that way?” Lilly’s incredulous question makes me even more irritated.
“Look, I didn’t do anything wrong. I just wanted to help, and I don’t understand why she got so angry. At the end of the day, she accepted the groceries. It’s not that different from the camera or the fact that I can pay for the clinic. I can afford it. It’s not like it’s a sacrifice for me.”
Lilly shakes her head as Damian watches me, amused. She tries to explain: “Thomas, the groceries you bought her were a bit like you took her out to dinner and decided to pay. She accepted because she knows that if you go out again, she can pay for you. It’s the game of dating, getting to know each other. You pay, then she pays, but you’re playing on equal terms, there’s no difference between you and her. Give her a camera or pay for the clinic...that’s something she can never reciprocate. You’re not on the same playing field. Jesus, you’re not even playing the same game.”
Damian defends me: “He, however, can afford it...and he didn’t do it to flaunt his money. It’s Thomas we’re talking about, the most generous and selfless person I know.”
I thank him for that. I need someone on my side.
Lilly smiles and watches us both, shaking her head. “I know you didn’t intend to bully her, but the result is the same—she felt inferior to you. Maybe she thinks you see her as weak and helpless, unable to take care of herself.”
“But that’s not the case. I just wanted to help by making her life easier,” I protest.
Lilly smiles and rests a hand on my leg. “How would you feel if someone did something like that for you when you were in trouble?”
“I would have accepted! I’m not that stupid.”
Damian bursts out laughing. “But you did insist that we starve like beggars when Joe offered us leftovers when the kitchen was already closed, and we didn’t have the money to pay for it,” the traitor recalls.
Lilly turns to me and smiles lovingly. “Thomas, not all women need to be saved. Many can make it on their own without a man coming in and solving their problems.”
“I know that. I’ve never considered women the weaker sex. In fact, I think it’s the opposite. You can stand everything that’s thrown at you...we don’t know which way to turn when you leave us. I wasn’t trying to be the hero here.”
“Thomas, I know you’re not doing this for Iris. You’re doing it to save yourself for not being able to do something for your family. But she doesn’t know that. She only sees the egotistical, arrogant star who tries to solves everything with a swipe of a credit card.”
Lilly’s words hit me like a punch in the stomach. It’s disarming how this woman can read me. When she gets up to wrap her arms around my neck, I feel my eyes burning with emotion.
“Go and apologize to her, because you’ll never find a woman like that again.”
I don’t answer her. I just nod, holding onto her in a hug that gives me courage.