Chapter 6

The quiet of the hotel room was welcoming after the long day, and I flopped sleepily onto the couch. I ran my hands over my face and sighed, hoping that the subsequent days would not be as trying as the present day had proved to be.

I took my camera from around my neck and leaned back as I turned it on to review the photos. I sat still for a few moments on the couch, in a sort of glum trance as I looked over the pictures. I reminded myself that they were okay, that I did a good job, and then I set the camera aside, determined to cast the day's trials away from myself. I got up and went to take a shower.

I emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed and more serene. I sat and worked at my wet blonde hair with the fluffy hotel towel, yawning contently.

I put up my feet on the coffee table and leaned back, peering around at the quiet, still hotel room. I turned on the TV but turned it off again when I remembered that everything was in Spanish.

I sat in the quiet, looking at the dark curtained windows. It was too late to go out and take pictures, but too early to go to bed. I looked at my camera and considered uploading some of the pictures to Facebook, then quickly shook my head and looked away, not wanting to think anymore about the day's activities. I stood and picked up the camera, taking it across the room to the table and putting it into my sleek black camera bag. I stood in the quiet and looked silently around the room, searching for something to entertain myself with.

Finding nothing, I returned to the couch and sat cross-legged on it, staring listlessly into space and listening to the stillness of the night. I sighed just to hear the sound, and then focused on the chair across the room.

I hesitated, then slowly stood up and moved silently to it, bending down to pick up the stack of CDs in my hand. I looked down curiously at them, then spread them out in my hands to see the covers. The one on top showed the three boys, in younger versions of themselves, smiling up at me in front of a red curtain, with large white letters proclaiming the name of the group across the top. The same picture was on another CD case, but the curtain was blue and the words "Edicion en Espanol" accompanied the title. Another case had a picture of the boys walking along a street in casual clothing. Ignazio was in the middle, with his arms slung brotherly over Piero and Gianluca, who leaned in toward him as they walked along. The CD was called "We Are Love." Another CD had the same photo, but with the words "Mas Que Amor."

I studied the cases, and then set most of them back down on the chair, keeping "We Are Love" in my hand. I opened it and looked at the intricate floral designs on the CD itself, and admired Valerie's photo of the boys walking along a different street, in different clothes. I couldn't help but smile at the image of Ignazio, who appeared to be squinting cutely against the sun. I reached for the CD and took it from the case, holding it with my thumb and forefinger as I snapped the case closed and set it on top of the other CDs. I went quickly to my laptop and slid the CD in the drive, where I uploaded the music and then transferred it to my phone. I powered down the laptop and went back to the sofa, settling down cross-legged to prepare to listen.

"Okay…" I sighed to myself, sliding on the headphones,
"Let's see what this group is all about."

I listened as the first notes began, and soft piano sounds followed. I anticipated the singing, and it began immediately,

"Moonlight draws your colors in the dawn…while the sound of silence in the wind feels…like an empty song…"

I froze in surprise. The voice, which I identified as Gianluca's, was rich and velvety, with tender undertones that silenced me and demanded my attention.

"Don't you ever lose me…I could never lose you…"

It was Ignazio now, whose voice was sweet and strong, and I stared into space in stunned incredulity.

"Oh…" I murmured, "Oh!"

This was not pop music. This was…I didn't know! It was different from music I usually heard.

"Je t'aime mi amor…Io ti amo...We are love…"

It was Piero's turn, and his voice was powerful and operatic.

This was so different than what I expected. The talent was obvious, and the music was pure and strong and…brilliant. I listened with my mouth ajar and my eyes wide, incredulous and dumbfounded, drinking in the sounds as I reached for the phone and turned the sound up, realizing after a moment that I was trembling.

I sat completely still, absorbing the music in astonishment. As the first song drew to a close and the music silenced momentarily, there was a sinking pull on my heart as I realized that I had been wrong about the boys. They weren't just another pop group. They were…I didn't know. All I was aware of was the transcendent beauty of the music, its brilliance thrusting all my doubts and philosophies back in my face.

As the next song began, I listened as silent realization gripped me and immobilized me until a deep sorrow swelled in my chest. I thought of the halfhearted photography I had done for the boys and my bored demeanor as I tagged along with them wherever they went. All of my frustration and irritability were thrust back in my face, and as I reflected on my work my chest began to hurt and my face reddened. My breaths came fast as I started to cry, and I didn't even lift a hand to stop the tears as the voices of the three boys joined together inside my ears and turned my attention back to my own amazement.

I was struck by the new realization that being Il Volo's photographer was my job, my responsibility! It didn't matter whether or not if it was what I wanted; it was what I had! This job was not an inconvenience that I had to bear; it was a responsibility that I had to pour my heart and soul into!

I was no longer a landscape photographer. I was now a portrait photographer, and the incessant longing to be someplace other than where I was needed to be set aside. It was time to let go of my resentment to the boys and accept my responsibility to them.

I was gripped by an intense twisting inside me, and when I saw my red-faced, trembling reflection in the mirror across the room, I yanked the headphones off before I could hesitate, casting the music aside and separating myself from it to think. I stood and went to the mirror, looking into my watering blue eyes and contrite, pained expression. The silence surrounded me, and I sniffed and wiped at my eyes as the voices of the boys still echoed vaguely around me, unwilling to let me sort out my thoughts alone.

I grabbed my red high-tops from the floor and pulled them on, hopping toward the door in a desperation to separate myself from the strength of the feelings tugging on me and demanding my attention. I flung open the door and slammed it behind me, hurrying down the porch steps and forward into the dark, quiet evening.

"Tamzin!?" someone called, and I whirled around to face Ignazio, who was standing on the porch several feet away. He seemed especially tall atop the steps, watching me. His face was etched with concern, especially when he saw my face, red and teary-eyed. He quickly came down the steps and jogged toward me as I drew swiftly back and shook my head at him.

"Tamzin, are you okay?" he asked as he came toward me. "What's wrong?"

I looked up at his dark eyes, his rich voice echoing in my mind.

"I'm just going for a walk," I said quickly, cursing my unsteady, sorrowful voice.

"Can I come?" he asked, and I stepped back and shook my head as he approached. I smiled sadly, my lower lip trembling as the tears threatened to spill over.

"Not this time," I said, and then turned and sprinted off into the night, trying to muffle the aching cries that rose from within me.

I sprinted and stumbled through the still Guadalajara night in tears until I tripped over a root in a forest and stayed down, leaning against a tree and pulling my knees to my chest, sobbing as I tried to distance myself from everything I had longed to become. I imagined my visions and the exhilaration of my fantasies, and then clung to them more tightly then I ever had before I tore them from my grasp and felt a strange dizziness as I separated from them. It hurt deep in my chest as I locked away these longings for a later time. In a year I would return to Harrison, where I could have my dreams back for keeps. For now, I could no longer envision myself as the unwanted photographer for National Geographic, and instead I must accept my position as the photographer for Il Volo. I had to let go of my expectations and absorb myself in the duties that were assigned to me, and I couldn't do that if my whole being was a bitter longing to have something I didn't have, to be someone I couldn't be yet.

I tore away from myself the misguided ideals and my resentment toward the boys, and scorned my poor performance thus far, bearing the painful protests of my heart. I desperately tried to rid myself of the shame that arose when I thought of my laziness the past few days concerning the portraits, but it latched onto me and persisted, wearing away at my trembling heart.

I pressed my fists into my eyes and cried until all of my tears were gone. Eventually I was hunched over on my knees in the cool dirt, listening to the silence around me with my eyes closed, feeling the powerful emptiness inside me. I wasn't a National Geographic photographer, and I couldn't be for at least a year. For now, I had to be Il Volo's photographer and accept this identity. I sighed to listen to my voice, and reeled at the pain and weariness within the sound. I looked up into the silent darkness, and I reached up to grasp a dirty tree branch, pulling myself to my feet and pausing to make sure I could stand. I felt so weary, and I stood still for a moment, feeling the movement of air throughout my lungs to be sure I was still alive and whole. I released the branch and took a shaky step forward, starting my journey back to the hotel room.

I moved cautiously over the dead, crackling leaves on the forest floor, thinking that only Il Volo's photographer could enter the hotel room and that before I left the forest, I had to become that.

I quietly stumbled forward through the forest, leaving the place where my now selfish, lost fantasies were buried and would remain until I was able to accept them back under better circumstances and fulfill them, when the year was up.

A silent ache accompanied me as I trudged over the cracking twigs and whispering grass on my return to the hotel. A great anxiety filled me as I drew closer to it, and I opened my mouth to voice the words I knew I had to embody. I found myself unable to speak, and when I reached the edge of the forest, I stopped, staring ahead into the dark, vast unknown of the night. I tried to move and couldn't, not until I had said the words that were my promise to the boys.

I mustered my strength and closed my eyes, recalling the beautiful music I had heard to give me the courage I needed.

"I am Tamzin Montgomery, photographer of Il Volo," I whispered, and then paused as the quiet, shaky words dissipated into the night. I hesitated, and then said them again, proclaiming them to the witnessing stars and moon, "I am Tamzin Montgomery, photographer of Il Volo!"

The words echoed around me, and I was almost surprised to hear them and feel the way they felt on my heart. I stood there at the end of the sheltering forest, absorbing the first few moments of my new identity. Then I stepped out from under the trees, and was absorbed by sleepiness so intense that I almost sunk to the ground and slept in the security of my new promise.

But I moved forward, through the dark quiet, and eventually saw the brilliantly warm glow of the hotel lights. I yawned and moved toward them, trudging up the porch steps to the door, rubbing my eyes and yawning. I stopped when I saw a small wrapped box at the doorstep, and I reached down and picked it up. I surveyed it in confusion, then cautiously pulled off the paper and looked down in surprise at the cookies in the clear plastic container. I pulled open the lid and read the note atop the cookies.

"Here's your official welcome to the Il Volo team, Tamzin! I hope you feel better about whatever's troubling you… -Ignazio."

He bakes?

I took a cookie and bit into it, and then opened my eyes wide as I tasted it. He bakes!

I smiled, and then threw my head back and laughed, and clasped the box to my chest as I entered the hotel room and ran to the couch, snatching up my phone and pressing the headphones over my ears as I started the music again. I sank onto the cushions and let myself be lost in the music, taking in the beauty it was now my job to promote. The aching emptiness inside me was forgotten as I listened, absorbed into the tender peace of the music. I listened in silence, nibbling on the cookies to make them last longer, and when the CD ended I rushed to the stack on the chair and uploaded them all to the laptop. I curled up on the sofa and started the next CD, and I restlessly listened to all of them, late into the night and early morning, shaking and tearing up and closing my eyes to hear their voices singing in my ears, until the last song on the last CD ended and the silence made me submit to my exhaustion.