Pod kůžíUnder the Skin

XVIII.

Monday morning greeted me exactly as I’d expected from a Monday four days before Christmas: with an empty kettle. I stood in front of the kitchen counter, mug in hand, staring at it as though water might appear through the sheer force of my displeasure. “If you keep glaring at it, it might get scared,” someone said behind me. “That’s the idea.” Kristin walked past me, set a folder of papers on the counter, and reached for the kettle. “You know you can fill it, right?” “I know. I was waiting to see if you’d offer.” “And I thought you’d come in to work today.” “So did I.” She smiled and turned on the tap. I went back to my desk and switched on my computer. There were seven new emails in my inbox. Not bad for the Monday before Christmas. Most of the clients had approved their materials, and all that remained was to finish a few last adjustments. I even naively thought I might leave at a reasonable hour today. That thought lasted about eleven minutes. “Elias?” Kristin stood in the office doorway with her phone to her ear. She wasn’t looking at me, but at the screen of her laptop. “Do you have that New Year’s cover open?” “The approved New Year’s cover?” She looked up at me. I didn’t like that look. “Yeah. That one.” I turned to my monitor and opened the folder. The model’s photo, taken last week. The final selection, colour corrections, retouching. Everything was done. The client had approved the latest version on Friday afternoon. “Got it.” Kristin pressed the phone more firmly to her ear. “I understand,” she said in the tone I knew all too well. “Could you please clarify what exactly you’d like to change?” She listened for a while. Then she closed her eyes. And I knew we were in trouble. “All right. I’ll call you back in ten minutes.” She hung up. For a few seconds, we just looked at each other. “No,” I said. “I haven’t said anything yet.” “You don’t have to.” Kristin leaned against the doorframe. “They want a different cover.” I looked at the monitor. “A different edit?” “A different cover.” “Different colours?” “Elias.” “Please tell me it’s different colours.” “Without the model.” I looked at the photo we’d finished last week. “Without our model?” “Without any model.” I slowly leaned back in my chair. “It’s Monday.” “I know.” “They approved it on Friday.” “I know.” “And it’s supposed to go to print on Wednesday.” “I know that too.” I thought for a moment. “Do you think if we both pretended we were dead, anyone would check?” Kristin finally laughed. “Unfortunately, yes.” “Shame.” I pulled my keyboard closer. “So what do they want instead?” Kristin sat on the edge of the desk beside me. “That’s the best part.” I raised an eyebrow. “They don’t quite know yet.” I stared at her. “So they know what they don’t want, but they don’t know what they do want.” “Exactly.” “Brilliant.” I opened a new document. “I love my job.” “Good,” Kristin said, getting up from the desk. “We need a specific brief from them.” “That would be nice.” “I’ll try to get something out of them. In the meantime, see what we have available.” “You mean props?” “Props, backgrounds, decorations. Anything that could look like New Year’s without making us spend another three hours tracking it down.” “So, confetti.” “Elias.” “A bottle of sparkling wine.” “Go on.” “Glasses.” “See? You’re getting the hang of this.” “And my resignation.” “Save that for January.” She picked up her phone, and I headed to the storage room. Our prop collection was the result of several years of photoshoots, last-minute purchases, and the belief that absolutely everything would come in handy one day. Most of it never did. I opened the first cupboard and stared for a moment at a box of Easter decorations. “Wrong holiday,” I muttered, and shut it. The next one held Christmas ornaments, artificial snow, and a few gold ribbons. I also found two unopened packs of confetti, which I considered a minor miracle. I gradually carried everything that seemed useful to the worktable: champagne glasses, a dark backdrop, a string of lights, gold decorations, and a few bottles we used for product photography. When Kristin came back, I was standing over the pile, wondering if we could make something that wouldn’t look like the leftovers from a failed party. “Well?” I asked. “They want a festive atmosphere.” “What a surprise.” “Elegant, but cheerful.” “Of course.” “And it has to be obvious at first glance that it’s New Year’s.” I looked around the table. “I have confetti. Think they’ll get the message?” Kristin looked over the props we’d laid out. “This could work.” “What exactly?” She picked up one of the glasses and set it against the dark backdrop. “Two glasses, a bottle, a little gold. Blurred lights in the background. We’ll leave room for the text.” I nodded. “And the products?” “They want sparkling wine from their current range. They’ll send us the label materials.” “When?” She looked at me. “They said as soon as possible.” “My favourite unit of time.” She smiled. “Set up the scene. I’ll sort out the lighting.” An hour later, we had our first test shots. Kristin stood behind the camera, and I was by the monitor where the photos appeared as they were taken. “Move the glass on the left a little closer,” she said. I shifted it a few centimetres. “Like this?” “A little more.” I moved it again. “Now?” “Yeah. And turn the bottle a bit more towards me. We can adjust the label once they send the materials.” I adjusted it and stepped out of the shot. The shutter clicked. Another photo appeared on the monitor. “This is looking good,” I said. Kristin came over and looked at the image for a moment. “Maybe I’d take out that gold ribbon.” “Please.” She looked at me. “What?” “I’ve hated that ribbon ever since I found it.” She laughed and reached for it. “Then throw it away.” “Gladly.” I set the ribbon aside. Kristin took a few more shots, changed the angle of the light, and in the end we picked three photos worth sending to the client. I transferred them to the computer, made some basic adjustments, and prepared the previews. At 11:42, I sent the email. At 11:47, the reply came. Thank you, the photos look good. We’d just like to try a version without the bottle. I read the message once more. Then I turned to Kristin. “They want it without the bottle.” She looked up from the camera. “The one they specifically asked for an hour ago?” “That very one.” We looked at each other for a moment. “All right,” she said at last. “We’ll take it out.” “And what do we put there instead?” “Nothing for now. Let’s see how it looks.” I nodded and went back to the set. I removed the bottle, adjusted the glasses, and Kristin took another series of photos. This time we sent the previews at 12:26. The reply came shortly after one. The version without the bottle is better. Could we try a lighter background, though? The current one feels a little too dark. I stayed where I was, staring at the monitor. “Kristin?” “Hm?” “Remember how they wanted an elegant New Year’s atmosphere?” “Yeah.” “Now they want a lighter background.” She set her phone down on the table. “All right. We’ll try lighter.” “Do you think they’d be happy if we sent them a photo of an empty white table?” “No.” “Me neither.” Kristin stood up. “Come on. Let’s rearrange it.” By three in the afternoon, I’d stopped keeping track of the time. We’d gone through several versions, two complete background changes, and a discussion about whether the gold confetti looked festive enough. The client had sent more comments in the meantime. This time, they wanted the photo to feel “more dynamic.” Which was an interesting brief for two motionless glasses. Kristin was trying to reach the person who had to approve the final version. I was editing the last images and preparing a comparison. I had six photos open on the monitor. They all looked almost the same. And according to the client, every one was fundamentally different. “Elias?” I looked up. Kristin was standing next to my desk. “Are the previews ready?” I nodded. “Send them to me, please.” I clicked send. She watched me for a moment. “You’re awfully quiet.” “I’m working.” “I can see that.” I looked back at the monitor. Another email. Another comment. I opened the drawer, took out my headphones, and set them beside the keyboard. Kristin glanced at them. “Techno or metal?” “Techno.” “So we’re not completely screwed yet.” I put on my headphones. “Not yet.” I started the music and returned to the photos. The bass filled my head. At last, I could think a little more clearly. The music thumped in my ears as I worked through the photos one by one. Adjust the lights. Correct the colours. Remove the reflection on the right-hand glass. Check that there was enough room for the text on the cover. Save. Export. Send. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them again, there was a message from Adam on my phone. I just found out I have three almost identical hoodies at home. The corners of my mouth twitched. That’s tragic. The reply came almost immediately. Worse, I want to take all three. Then take them. You’re no good at supporting me through difficult life decisions. Take four. That’s why I love you. I stared at the last message for a while. Then I set the phone beside the keyboard and got back to work. “Adam?” Kristin said beside me. I took one earbud out. She was standing by my desk with a mug of coffee. “What?” She nodded towards my phone. “That smile.” “We’re dealing with a serious crisis.” “Oh?” “He has three hoodies.” “Poor thing.” “Exactly.” She set another mug beside my keyboard. “Here. Before you forget you exist entirely.” I looked at the coffee. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome. When you’re done, I need to go over the last version with you.” I nodded and put my headphones back on. At half past four, the email we’d been waiting for for almost an hour arrived. Thank you for sending the options. After an internal discussion, we’d like to go back to the darker background from the first series. The composition without the bottle works for us. I read it. Then I read it again. I took off my headphones. “Kristin.” “Hm?” “They want the first background back.” She looked up from her laptop. “The dark one?” I nodded. There was a brief silence. “Of course,” she said. She turned back to the screen. “Do we still have that version saved?” “Yeah.” “Good. We’ll use that, then.” I opened the right folder. “And you know what the best part is?” “Go on.” “If we’d done absolutely nothing all day, we’d still have the same dark background we had this morning.” Kristin laughed quietly. “But we’d have a lot less proof that we’d worked.” That was true. I went back to the first series of shots without the bottle, adjusted the composition, and prepared a new cover. Kristin pulled her chair up beside me, and together we checked the details. “I’d bring the light down a little here,” she said, pointing at the monitor. I adjusted the setting. “Like this?” “Yeah. And the reflection on the left.” I zoomed in on the photo. “I see it.” We worked in silence for a while. “Done,” I said at last. Kristin looked over the image. “Looks good to me.” I nodded. I prepared the preview in the final layout and sent it to the client. At 5:18. Then we waited. At 5:42, Kristin called. At 6:06, she called again. At 6:23, a reply arrived. Thank you, we approve this version. Please send us the final print files. I stared at the monitor. Then I took off my headphones and set them on the desk. “They approved it.” Kristin looked up. “Really?” I turned the screen towards her. She read the email. “Excellent.” “Should I thank them for letting us use our own photo?” “No.” “Not even a little?” “Elias.” “All right.” I prepared the final files and checked the resolution, colour profile, and export. Meanwhile, Kristin reviewed the cover one more time, including the text and graphics. At 6:51, we sent the print files. Only then did I turn off the music. The silence in the office suddenly felt strange. Kristin stretched and leaned back in her chair. “Well.” “Well.” “We got it done.” “Until they change their minds.” “Don’t ruin this moment for me.” I turned off my computer. “Sorry.” Kristin stood up and picked up her coat. “Come in at the usual time tomorrow. If they want anything, we’ll deal with it in the morning.” “If they want the model back, I’m leaving.” “Where to?” “I don’t know. The woods.” “It’s cold there.” “Then somewhere warm.” “That sounds like a good plan.” We turned off the lights and left the office. It was dark outside. The air stung my cheeks, and I zipped my jacket all the way up. The streets were full of people hurrying somewhere with bags and parcels. Christmas lights glowed in shop windows, and carols were playing somewhere around the corner. After the whole day, I didn’t feel like doing anything. Not shopping. Not making dinner. I just wanted to go home. The display at the tram stop said the tram would arrive in seven minutes. Seven minutes. I sighed and shoved my hands into my pockets. There were a few little Christmas stalls beside the stop. One sold mulled wine, another candles and ceramics. From the last one came the clink of mugs as the seller rearranged them on a shelf. I glanced over the things on display without much interest. Bowls. Small plates. Mugs with Christmas designs. And then I saw them. Two ceramic mugs. Completely ordinary. The same shape, a little wider at the base, with comfortable handles. One dark blue, the other green. No writing, no pictures. Just two mugs. I looked at them for a moment. Then I took my hands out of my pockets and walked over to the stall. “Good evening,” the seller said with a smile. “Good evening.” I pointed to the shelf. “Could I take a look at those two?” She handed them to me. I picked up the blue one first, then the green. They were pleasantly heavy, and the ceramic had a slightly uneven surface. “I’ll take both.” “Of course. Would you like me to wrap them?” “Please.” While she wrapped them in paper, I looked over my shoulder towards the stop. Five minutes. I paid, thanked her, and went back beneath the shelter with a small paper bag. The tram arrived two minutes later. At home, I took off my shoes, hung up my jacket, and set the bag on the kitchen counter. I didn’t even unwrap it. I took something out of the fridge to eat, but after a moment I closed it again. I wasn’t hungry. Or I was too tired to tell. I poured myself a glass of water, went into the living room, and collapsed onto the sofa. For a while, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling. Then I reached for my phone. Adam. I didn’t have to think about it. I pressed call. He answered on the third ring. “Well, look at that,” he said. “Someone remembered I exist.” I closed my eyes. “Hi.” “Hi. You’re calling?” “No. It’s an automated reminder.” Adam laughed. “That’s a nice automated reminder.” I rolled onto my side and pulled a cushion under my head. “What are you doing?” “Packing.” “Still?” “Listen, it’s a complicated process.” “Three hoodies?” “Four. I took your advice.” I smiled. “I’m glad.” “And you? Are you home already?” “Yeah.” “How did work go?” I searched for an answer for a moment. “We have a cover.” “That sounds like a success.” “After a whole day, we have almost the same cover we had this morning.” “So you were productive.” “Extremely.” Adam laughed. “You sound completely dead.” “That’s how I feel.” “Have you eaten anything?” I glanced towards the kitchen. “Coffee.” “Elias.” “And tea,” I added. “This morning.” “That’s not food.” “That’s a matter of opinion.” “It’s a matter of you needing to eat something once in a while.” “It’s nice to hear from you too.” There was a quiet laugh on the other end. “At least have something, okay?” “In a minute.” “You always say that.” “Because I usually mean it.” “Usually?” “Sometimes.” Adam sighed so dramatically that I had to smile. “What about you?” I asked. “Are you packed yet?” “Almost.” “How much do you have left?” “Everything except the hoodies.” I laughed. “You’ve made great progress.” “See? At last, someone appreciates how far I’ve come.” We talked for a while about complete nonsense. His packing. Filip misplacing a charger and blaming the whole apartment for it. Matěj, who had only bought his Christmas presents today. Kuba, who insisted the best way to wrap presents was to use gift bags, because then you didn’t have to deal with paper. I listened to him and gradually felt the tension of the whole day fall away. “Hey,” Adam said after a while. “Hm?” “I’m glad you called.” I opened my eyes. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” There was a silence for a moment. I looked towards the kitchen, where a small paper bag sat on the counter. “Me too,” I said. And I stayed there, lying with the phone to my ear, while Adam told me why he’d just found another hoodie he absolutely needed to take with him. This time, I wasn’t in a hurry to go anywhere.