I crouched down on the ground to get a better view of the picturesque landscape of Greertown, Arizona. All was quiet around me. I tried not to move a muscle, aside from twisting the zoom on my camera lens to focus in clearer on my subject. I had the perfect shot. Aim and shoot. I had this.

My lens focused on the beautiful family of geese that were splashing around on the placid lake. It was a tranquil setting. There was a light breeze. The sky was overcast, draped in gray, but that was common for mid-October in the Eastern Arizona mountains.

I loved this part of the country this time of year. There was something so peaceful about being in a beautiful setting in a small mountain town when all the fall leaves had reached their peak foliage moment. Add a lake to the scene? Well, it was token paradise in my humble opinion.

One after the other, I captured the images of the geese in various poses on the water’s surface, capturing the purity of nature in action. This was my first assignment for this particular client If I wanted them to call me back for more jobs, I had to deliver. Outside of contracts, I worked mainly freelance photography on my own, but occasionally, a big named magazine would see my published work and would call me for a gig.

The familiar clicking sound occurred as soon as I pushed the button to freeze the family of geese. The majestic fowl were flapping their wings and splashing around in the lake water, ducking their heads underneath and seemingly playing hide and seek with one another.

I felt myself grinning, just watching them blissfully interact with each other in such a simplistic way. There were rugged mountains across the lake. It was a beautiful profile of rustic nature. A dove cawed in the distance, purring a soothing love song into the air.

The trees were peppered with beautiful hues of oranges, reds and magnificent golds. Soon, the leaves would fall and leave behind the empty skeleton of the limbs that they once so proudly fluffed. After that, ice and snow would fall in a beautiful blanket of white, dusting the earth in a cloak of ice.

My knees crack as I stood up. I raised my arms over my head to stretch a bit and then brushed the dirt off my jeans. My dad would balk at my choice of attire today. My jeans were ripped over the thighs and knees. I’d spilled my coffee all over my shirt this morning, and the tee I had to replace it was barely long enough to cover my midsection. I tugged my jacket tighter around me to make up for the wardrobe mishap. It wasn’t like I was trying to impress anyone. I was here to get a job done and leave. But, courtesy of being forced to attend etiquette school and various formal events with my parents, I sure did know how to clean up nicely.

I had grown up in a house of millionaires, but to know me today, you would have never guessed that I had been exposed to that kind of upbringing. I never felt like that was who I was supposed to be inside. It was almost as if I was playing a part for my parents, acting in a play and just following along with the directions, or in this case, my parents, instructions.

My older brother, on the other hand, was currently living it up, traveling all over the country. They’d had the same goals and aspirations for him too. For Brian’s first marriage, my parents set him up with the daughter of the man who owned one of the biggest country clubs in the city. That, too, was a union solely entered into for financial and political gain. The marriage lasted less than a year.

Six months later, my brother introduced us to his new fiancé, who owned lots of real estate. She was self-made and appeared to have been college-educated with loads of common sense, but that marriage didn’t last either. Ironically, my brother had taken a page from my dad’s book and ran it into the ground. The guy was now on his fourth marriage in ten years. That, obviously, wasn’t what my dad meant. Realizing that my brother couldn’t and wouldn’t conform to their standards, they pretty much disowned him half the time.

But, just like my brother, I didn’t have to put on a show for anyone anymore. That was all behind me now.

My phone began to vibrate in my pocket. I reached for it, curious about who might be calling me, and even more perplexed that my cell phone had a range of service out here in the wilderness. I wasn’t that far away from the town, but far enough out that the drive back to my hotel room would be around a half an hour drive down winding, curvy mountain roads that hugged my car and probably had a million stories to tell if they could talk.

I looked at the screen after plucking my phone from my back pocket. I groaned when I recognized the number. “What do you want?” I mumbled under my breath.

I placed my camera back into its protective bag and draped the holder over my shoulder. I hesitated for a moment or two, still staring at the number displayed on the screen:

“It’s not going to do you any good to ignore him, Brooklyn.” I breathed out with a huff.

The wood of the dock I was standing on made a creaking sound as I shifted my weight and paced back and forth. My camera bag swayed with my movements. The sound of the lake water lapped against the edge of the dock beams. If I wasn’t so perturbed by this current phone call, it might have been a lulling sound to my ears, but my ringtone just had to ruin it all.

“Hello?” I answered before the call had a chance to go to voice mail.

“Brooklyn?” My father’s voice sounded confused on the other end. “Where are you?”

His voice was going in and out on the other end, reminding me that the reception wasn’t so good. I secretly wished the call would drop.

“Work…” I trailed off abstractly.

“Work?” My father asked. He sounded far away too as if he were shouting through a wind tunnel.

“Yes Dad, I’m at work,” I reaffirmed.

“Where? I didn’t know you were working again.”

“At a lake. I got a gig.” I didn’t verify exactly which lake I was at though.

“Oh.” My father sounded disappointed. “Are you still doing those photographs for that same magazines? What’s it called…? City Landscapes?”

“Yes, Dad, I have a few gigs coming up for them, but this is a new client. Last minute gig. Good money, though.”

I already had a sneaking suspicion of why my dad might be calling me. Neither one of my parents approved of my lifestyle even though I was just innocently out there making a living and minding my own business. Maybe that was part of the problem.

I had been divorced for four years from a man they pressured me to marry prematurely just because they thought our families would benefit from the union. I was only eighteen at that time, but I should have known better. I guess I was so fascinated with the idea of getting married and starting a family like so many of my friends at the time that I didn’t stop to think that maybe there was no rush and I had years to make that decision. Now, eight years later, I had to make up for all the time lost.

Unfortunately, in the last few years, my parents hadn’t altered their viewpoints for the better by any significant spectrum. They married each other for financial gains and then ended up falling in love over the years, so ideally, they thought I would mimic their same success. Not. I guess I wasn’t cut out for the married life.

“Well anyway,” I said, wandering around on the dock, watching as the occasional fish or two came to the surface. “So, I’m not in the city. Nowhere near it, actually. I travel quite a bit now. Why’d you call again?” I didn’t know if my father would catch on that I was being edgily sarcastic.

Apparently, he didn’t. His voice was still chipper and breezy on the other end. I rolled my eyes. He was still as clueless as ever about how his constant demands had a negative effect on our relationship. I wanted to enjoy my dad’s company, but he made it so damn difficult.

“I was actually calling because your mother and I need you to come home this weekend.”

“Oh?” I asked but secretly crossed my fingers that he wouldn’t elaborate. That chance was microscopic at the very least.

“Yes.” I could hear the pride in my dad’s tone. He was probably sitting at the mahogany, Italian imported desk in his private office space, sipping on a straight shot of brandy. “We need you to attend a fundraiser that my company set up at a local art gallery. This would be perfect for you. We know how you love art.”

My father was an investor. He had ties all over the city where he lived. He had power and status, and my mother was a socialite. Her job was to look pretty and make my father happy by having dinner on the table at six-thirty on the dot Monday through Friday nights.

“An art fundraiser?” My interest was at a peak, but he hadn’t reeled me in completely yet.

“That’s right. We really need you to be there.”

My father had stooped to a new low. He knew how much I appreciated art. I created art on a daily basis, but the only difference was, my art was nature mostly. My subjects were the wildlife that were looming around, casually minding their own business while I snapped shots of them.

“Couldn’t my brother do it? We all know he’s good at selling stuff,” I said, knowing that this would aggravate my dad to no end.

“Nope. This has nothing to do with Brian,” he stated, firmly.

“Is it really vital that I come?”

I didn’t expect my father to blatantly come out and tell me he was trying to trick me into going by using my weakness for art against me, but I knew what was happening, nonetheless.

“Yes, Brooklyn.” Now he sounded on the brink of frustrated. “You can come home to see your mother for one weekend.”

“I thought that you wanted me to attend the art show?” I was desperately trying to stall.

I knew exactly what my parents were up to. Ever since I got divorced, it seemed like the very next day that my signature was on the paperwork, they were out there trying to play matchmaker for me again.

It was suffocating to say the very least. I could take care of myself. I didn’t necessarily need a man in my life to feel happiness. In a way, being single suited me. I didn’t mind being on my own. I appreciated the peace and quiet. Plus, I never had to answer to anyone. Well, anyone besides my bosses at the magazines who gave me assignments.

“Dad—”

“Don’t protest just yet.”

“I already know what your end game here is,” I told him.

“Your mother and I…” he trailed off, formulating the best response to appease me.

I stood there on the dock and crossed my arms together as I held the phone under the crook of my neck. “Yeah?” I asked impatiently.

“We just want you to be happy again, sweetheart.”

“I am happy, dad.”

“Really?” I could hear him cringing on the other line.

I locked my jaw. “Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. This taxing conversation was giving me a migraine.

“You don’t want to get married again? Traveling gets lonely, doesn’t it?”

“Not right now,” I said. “I don’t see what the big deal is. Why all the pressure?”

“Well, you know that your mother wants grandchildren to spoil—”

I erupted into laughter, interrupting him. “There’s Brian. He’s fully capable of having children.”

“Brooklyn?” he warned.

“So, are you telling me that mom’s happiness needs to be put in front of mine? Should I get married to a stranger and pop out a kid just to appease her?”

“I’m not saying that at all, Brooklyn.” My father was immediately on the defensive.

“I don’t need to have that socialite status to feel fulfilled,” I told him. “Besides, what constitutes your joy doesn’t necessarily have the same effect on me.”

“I think you should just give it another chance.” My father was persistent. I had to give him credit for that.

I think you should mind your own business, I thought to myself. I had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from spewing that bitter revelation out into the open.

“I believe in falling in love, Dad.”

“Well, so do I.”

“I don’t want to be set up on any blind dates with guys that you and mom had to approve first,” I said. It wasn’t up for debate. I wasn’t going to budge.

“We still need you there,” he said.

“Where?” I pretended not to follow.

“At the art show.”

“No.”

“Brooklyn, it’s for a fundraiser. I want my family there to support it. Brian’s dealing with some kind of nasty situation with his wife, but honestly, you have more experience with this than he does.”

I sighed heavily and my shoulders slumped. “Why do I get the feeling that you wanting me there isn’t just about the art show?” I picked up a pebble that was wedged in between the cracks of the dock and threw it into the lake. Nothing skipped along the surface. The poor rock just sank to the bottom.

“I don’t know what you are implying, Brooklyn. Most of everyone we know will be there. I’ll have business colleagues there too. There may be a few young men there. They’re all suitable candidates for business partners and might even be suitable possible lifelong partners for you.”

“I’m not going,” I stated sharply. “I’m not going to fall for your shenanigans anymore.” I hung up on him before he could argue my point.

I sighed and leaned up against the gate of the dock. I needed a few moments to regroup from that fiery conversation. Sometimes my parents really irked me. I tried to relax and calm down as I took a few breaths of the fresh mountain air.

I needed to focus myself back on my work and immerse myself in the beauty surrounding me. But before I did, I switched my phone to silent so that my parents couldn’t bother me again. I had made my decision, and that was final. I wasn’t going home to attend their art show. If they wanted me there, they would have to drag me by the hair, kicking and screaming.