People Bigger Than a Screen

We earned our next growth from actual private commissions, original illustrated projects and a few small institutional customers in New Zealand. One eighteen-thousand-New-Zealand-dollar project included a deposit of fifteen thousand; the full direct cost was twelve thousand and the completed work contributed six thousand before shared overhead and tax. The deposit was part of the price, not a second income. Lani and I paid contributors and bought useful production time rather than announcing a studio full of equipment nobody had yet asked us to use. I rented a better room and bought my mother a comfortable chair after asking which one she actually liked.

Tala was twenty-six and worked as a translator and editor around Apia and regional projects. She taught me that a subtitle could be technically tidy and still sound like a stranger explaining somebody's family to them. We paid for her work, then later met personally over dinner. Tala wore black, rested her hand over mine and asked whether I ever listened without silently arranging an edit. I said I was attempting an unusually unprepared evening. She smiled, drew closer and told me the raw material seemed promising. The kiss outside required no revision I wished to make.

Ruth taught adults in Wellington and was thirty. She helped us test an original short learning piece with people who had not attended the discussion that created it. Later she invited me to a reading and took my arm when we left. Ruth said she liked the man who could hear a confused person without making them apologize for the instructions. I told her I had learned what it felt like to wait outside a conversation. She touched my cheek, kissed me and said she hoped I would remember to invite her into another one before work tried to own the entire week.

Joy was twenty-four and made films in Auckland. She photographed a paid project, refused to make the subject look like a decoration beside a machine and later asked me to see her own work. We sat close in the screening, and Joy kept her hand in mine after the lights returned. She asked if I had enjoyed being an audience instead of trying to be useful. I said I had discovered an excellent reason to practice. Joy laughed, kissed me on the walk home and told me the next invitation would not contain a professional excuse to help me recognize it.

Bea kept books for small firms and was twenty-nine. She stopped us celebrating a large unpaid invoice and made the actual cash plan much less exciting and more comfortable. At a separate personal dinner she wore green, caught my glance and asked whether I had found something on the table more interesting than a reconciled account. I admitted I had. Bea leaned closer, brushed a thread from my sleeve and said she appreciated a direct answer. When she kissed me outside afterward, I had no useful number with which to describe how much I wanted another evening.

Iris was thirty-one and reviewed a proposal that would have handed a buyer more future creative work than the buyer intended to pay for. We narrowed it. Some weeks later she invited me for a drink after a friend's gathering, when neither of us was at work. Iris wore dark blue and had a calm way of waiting until I stopped trying to sound prepared. She asked what I wanted without a sentence beginning with the studio. I said I wanted to kiss her. She smiled, said that was finally specific and drew me close when we left.

Kate was twenty-seven, a museum educator in New Zealand and a client only within the ordinary review and purchasing process her work required. We became friends after a completed job, and later she asked me to dinner where we would discuss anything except a delivery schedule. Kate laughed at my story about the progress bar, took my hand and said the man outside the screen seemed worth keeping visible. Her kiss at the station was gentle. I enjoyed the warmth and also began to hear how many other women I had left waiting for a clear answer about what warmth meant to me.

Rose organized private community events and was twenty-eight. She booked a completed piece, paid for its agreed use and later invited me to a birthday evening as a person rather than a supplier. Rose wore silver earrings, drew me into a dance and asked whether I could follow someone else's timing. I made an uncertain start and a much better second attempt. She laughed, kept her hand at my shoulder and said improvement was attractive when it did not require an announcement. Later we sat close, and she asked if I would like to continue the research over a quiet dinner another night.

Tess was twenty-six and photographed private families. We hired each other on suitable jobs, then went out after she asked whether I always needed an invoice to justify seeing a woman twice. Tess wore red, listened to a story I had never told during work and smiled at the part I usually omitted to make myself appear less foolish. She said that was the part she liked. Her hand found mine, and the kiss at her door left me with no desire to turn the memory into a better-lit version of itself. The ordinary truth had become surprisingly good company.

Hope was twenty-five and produced music across a small regional network. She supplied original sound for a paid piece, then invited me to a concert after the work was complete. Hope sat close, touched my cheek when I answered a question too solemnly and said she had invited the man rather than his best attempt at a company statement. I laughed, asked about the music she wanted to make and finally forgot the note I had been considering for the mix. She kissed me before leaving and told me she would be happy to see that quieter version of me again.