The Christmas Pic

30. Jo

CHAPTER 30

JO

I wake up with a sugar hangover and Ava tangled in my arms, her head on my chest, fast asleep. I’m replaying our night together obsessively in my head. It doesn’t escape me that Ava continues to take an increasingly active role in our trysts. She wants to be the purveyor of my pleasure. The heat in her eyes as she brought me to see stars was palpable. The way she moaned with me, like my completion was equally arousing to her, stirs something deep within me. The intensity of her desire is bewitching; when we’re naked together, I see a completely different Ava than the rest of the world does, and that privilege is intoxicating.

The vibration of my phone on the nightstand cuts through the morning quiet, and Ava stirs on my chest. I pick up the phone–it’s Mikey.

“Jo? Your chariot awaits!” he chirps, despite the ungodly hour.

“Be there soon,” I croak, hanging up.

Ava stirs again, slowly lifting her head to look up at me with glazed eyes. “Mm. Morning?”

I kiss her forehead. “Morning, beautiful.”

She snuggles closer. “Sleep more? ”

I shake my head. “Chrissy is ready at the shop. I’ve gotta go pick her up, but you can sleep in here if you like.”

She inhales deeply, then forces herself to sit up beside me. “No, no, I’m awake! Let’s go get our girl.”

Her ability to draw from some hidden reserve of kinetic energy within even at seven a.m. is impressive and I tell her so.

She’s humble for once. “It’s a blessing and a curse. I’m an over-committer.”

If only you could over-commit to me .

Mikey waves us over as we pull into the lot. Max, who possesses the ability to instantly apparate to wherever Ava needs them, no matter the hour, is already standing in the lot as well. Chrissy’s been washed (for $12k, I would sure hope so) and she gleams in the wintery morning sun.

We thank Mikey, and I hand off the rental keys to Max.

Ava and I board Chrissy. I sit in the fixed driver’s seat, leaning the chair all the way back and up again, pleased.

With a turn of the key, her engine roars to life, and I test the heat. It blasts full-force, better than I can ever remember it functioning.

"It's perfect," I say. “Thank you.”

Ava waves off my gratitude, but I can tell she’s pleased. “Don’t thank me yet, we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

Chosen Family Festival preparations are in full swing, with banners hung across every major intersection of town. The festive spirit has amped up to a level that only Harmony Springs can achieve.

Ava watches in awe from the passenger seat. "I thought Harmony Springs had maxed out on Christmas spirit, but this festival cranks it to eleven. ”

I feel a swell of hometown pride. "I’ve been trying to tell you, CFF isn’t any old festival. We go all out. It’s like Christmas on steroids with a splash of glitter."

“More than a splash,” she laughs.

Pulling into my driveway, I park Chrissy. Everything back in its right place, for now.

Max and Emma pull up, hopping out of the rental car. Max, ever the organized one, pulls out a list that's been color-coded and prioritized.

"Alright, team," Max starts, unfolding their master plan. "We’ve got a lot to cover. First, Handy Hardware is making their delivery in one hour. Emma and I will handle the installations and painting.”

“We will?” Emma quips, glancing up at Max. There’s totally a vibe between them, but I’m too caught up in avoiding my own romantic analysis to dwell on it.

Max clears their throat and looks at me and Ava. “Meanwhile, you two need to sort out the photo packages so you can design the flyers and sandwich board."

I salute them, the giddiness of what we’re prepping for starting to catch up with me.

Ava and I settle at the wooden table in my backyard, the crisp winter air moderated by the warmth radiating from the outdoor heater. Snow blankets the ground around us, lending a quiet hush to our oasis.

“Max slipped me a package that arrived at the hotel this morning,” she tells me, reaching into her work bag. She pulls out a recognizable white box containing the latest Macbook Pro.

"You haven’t replaced your slide rule yet," Ava says as she places it on the table between us. "I set up unlimited cloud storage for you, so all your photoshoots can be permanently backed up. "

"Ava, this is... I don't know what to say. Thank you," I manage. I’m not gonna lie, I could get used to being spoiled.

"Just doing what I promised. Making sure you have the best tools at your disposal."

My smile masks some of the sadness that bubbles up. “You’re turning out to be the best tool at my disposal.” For one more week , but I don’t say that part.

I boot up the new computer, finding she’s already installed CaptureOne and every other type of software I could possibly need.

“Where should we start?” I notice myself growing concerningly comfortable following Ava’s lead with the business. Her presence enables me to excel in the areas of the truck where I truly shine. I’m trying not to think about taking those other duties back on once she leaves.

Ava shifts into what I've come to recognize as her Gramsta mode–sharp, strategic, and jargony.

"Whenever I prepare for a major event at Gramsta," Ava starts, her eyes scanning the horizon as if visualizing every detail, "I focus on the essence, the core message we want to convey. It's about defining that golden nugget, one single word that encapsulates all of it."

“Like a keyword?” The headache of yesterday’s SEO rears its head.

She laughs. “Sort of. This is more in the Jo-zone, I promise. How do you want people to feel when they get their photos taken on the truck? Don’t think too hard about it; speak from the heart.”

Oh, if I were speaking from the heart, I’d be saying something very different.

“My dad always said it was important the camera captured perfect moments in real time, not just a perfect picture to look at later.”

She nods. “That’s a good baseline for the atmosphere we’re trying to build inside the truck tomorrow. That can inform what our photo package offering will be.” She mulls it over. “Keep talking about your dad.”

“He wanted Chrissy to be a place where people felt happy, and accepted, and safe to be themselves.”

“Happy. Accepted. Safe. Build from there,” she urges.

I’m not sure what witchcraft she’s performing, coaxing this supposed golden nugget from me, but suddenly the word materializes.

“Belonging,” I tell her. “That’s our keyword. For the festival, but also for the truck as a whole. Anyone who comes inside should have a sense of belonging.”

Ava’s eyes light up. “I told you you’d be good at this exercise!”

I flush at her praise.

She steals the computer from me and begins typing in a Word document. I try to peer over her shoulder and she pushes me off. “Patience!”

She sets the laptop aside and clasps her hands. “Sharks, are you ready to hear my pitch?”

“If I am the plural sharks you are addressing, then yes, by all means.”

"What if we extend that sense of belonging to the entire town during the festival? Imagine a massive love letter to Harmony Springs."

I lean in, caught up in her enthusiasm. "Tell me more."

"Anyone who donates can have their picture taken during the festival," she explains. "We then composite all those photos onto a massive Harmony Springs banner that we donate to City Hall for them to display, with each colorful pixel a photograph of community members.”

"That's brilliant," I say, impressed by her ability to transform my golden nugget into a literal community movement. "And we could offer additional prints of the final banner for purchase. ”

"Exactly," Ava nods. “It’s by the community, for the community, and Chrissy is at the center of facilitating the project, so everyone gets to know what she’s about.”

“Well, as the spokeswoman of all of the sharks in the tank today, I would like to fully vest in your proposal. With Gramsta funding, of course,” I add. She grins.

As we plot out our designs to advertise the Harmony Springs love letter, a twinge of sadness strikes me amidst the excitement. It’s become apparent that Ava has not only embraced the spirit of this town but also the essence of my father’s truck. I’m no scholar of the transitive property, but to me, that means she understands me just as deeply. Normally, such a profound connection would terrify me, but right now, I’m grappling with a different fear–the daunting prospect of becoming unrecognizable to myself once she’s gone.