Page 170 of Lovestruck at Sundown
Abigail conducted the interview with determination and grace. She focused on the history of the Beaumont Gallery, which dates back to the late 1800s, and how the legacy had been passed on from generation to generation since his great-grandfather. They talked about the excitement surrounding the gallery’s expansion and introduction to the American market, among other things.
When the interview was almost over, and Abigail askedLouis what he envisioned for the future, the conversation took an unexpected turn and touched on a more sensitive subject. Louis and Simone went off the record and mentioned their only son had died in an accident. He was only twenty-six and on track to learn everything about the business to take over one day. But that would never come to pass. They didn’t provide further details regarding their son’s death but reiterated they wouldn’t allow the family legacy to become extinguished.
Once the interview was over, I introduced myself and guided them to the studio space where I would capture Louis’s portrait. Abigail never attended the photoshoots. People feel more comfortable talking with an audience than being photographed with one since I’ve found it to be a much more vulnerable experience.
After giving Louis a brief explanation of the portrait I would be taking, I guided him to the stool and noticed he was growing more overwhelmed. Simone quickly approached him and started talking to him in French while I finished setting up my equipment.
“If you don’t feel like doing this, we can leave,” Simone whispered to Louis in French. “We can reschedule for another day. We’ll be in New York for three weeks, and the article won’t come out until next month.”
I didn’t know what to do or say, especially since they thought they were having a private conversation and didn’t stop to consider I might understand what they were saying.
Louis looked sad and on the verge of tears. Mentioning his son to Abigail had probably triggered him. But he kept telling Simone he couldn’t leave without having his picture taken, that he’d much rather push through than have to return for it some other day.
“If you need a minute, I can give you some privacy,” I saidin French. It was best to let them know I could understand them and avoid overhearing something more personal.
Louis shook his head with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. I could tell he was trying to reel it all in as Simone squeezed his shoulder. I slung the camera strap over my shoulder, letting it hang like a crossbody bag, and sat on the stool across from Louis.
“I lost my mother when I was fourteen,” I said. “And my best friend two years ago.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his eyes softened with understanding. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Simone and Louis nodded in appreciation as tears streamed down his face. Simone was visibly shaken but was better at maintaining her composure.
My eyes were watery, but I didn’t allow the tears to take over. Instead, I took a deep breath through my nose. “Although I’m no stranger to grief, I can’t pretend to even remotely understand the magnitude of what losing a child might feel like. So we can reschedule if you’re not feeling up for it right now.”
Louis straightened on the stool and gently grabbed his wife’s hand to remove it from his shoulder. “Take my picture,” he said in an almost supplicating tone. “Please.”
Simone knitted her brow with concern. “Louis, but you—”
“Please,” he insisted, and before he had to ask again, I pointed my camera at him. He wanted me to capture this moment, and he didn’t have to explain anything for me to know why.
I gave him a few indications of his posture and face position to perfectly match the mental template I followed for these portraits and snapped the first picture. Louis allowed the sentiment to flow and the tears to keep streaming down his face. His suggestion to register his pain through my lens had provided him the break he needed to carry on with the actual shoot.
Simone handed him a tissue, and after patting the tears away, he indicated he was ready to continue. Despite having cried, his eyes were wide and expressive, and his features had softened into a more relaxed state.
It took me less than a few minutes to finish the shoot, and the results were divine. I offered to show them the photographs on the studio’s display, and Simone’s approval rang out in the form of a few consecutive delighted gasps, and I smiled with pride as I listened.
“Do you showcase your work on social media?” Louis asked.
“Yes, I do.” I slipped my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and showed them my Instagram profile. Louis asked Simone to take note of my handle.
“Billie Murphy?” I nodded as he stared contemplatively at my name at the top of my profile page. I had told him my name when we were introduced earlier, but I didn’t blame him for forgetting. “Tell me, Mademoiselle Murphy,” he carried on in French. “Does Ambassador James Murphy happen to be your father?”
“That would be correct.” I smiled, trying to ignore how much I missed my dad. The months between the gala and William’s birthday, when he showed up unannounced at my place to apologize and reactivate our relationship, had been easygoing and pleasant. He offered me a glimpse of the father he knew he could be, and of the father I remembered he once was. Loving, supportive, and committed. The ups and downs had taken a toll on me, and I was letting my pride get the best of me with the excuse of wanting to protect my mental health. It was more taxing to make myself believe our relationship was beyond repair, even if I kept telling myself I needed time.
“Ah!C’est un petit monde, n’est-ce pas?”
Small world indeed.
“We met during an event at my gallery during his Ambassador days in France,” he said with a heavy accent after switching toEnglish. “You look very much like him.”
“So I’ve been told.” I smiled as I turned off the display and popped the lens protector back on my camera.
“Alor…” Louis said, reaching into his pocket. “We would love to have you for the gallery opening on the 27th.” He handed me one of his business cards. “I would appreciate it if you could email me your contact information so we can formally invite you to the event.”
“Of course.” I accepted his card and gave it a quick scan. “Thank you so much. It would be an honor to attend.”
“And please extend the invitation to your father if he’s available,” Louis added. “We would love to see him at the opening as well.”
“I—um,” I hesitated, fumbling to find my words. He caught me off guard, and I was too slow to think of a simple response like,Of course, I’ll let him know.Transparent, as always. Louis and Simone had been vulnerable enough to open up about their son. I could only repay with the same currency without giving too much away. “I haven’t spoken to my dad in a while, but I’ll extend the invitation through his assistant.”
“I don’t mean to intrude,” Louis said as he regarded me with sympathy. “But I can tell from your reaction that something is going on between the two of you.”
