When Olivia met K
Chapter XIX
Olivia meets Lenny the Lensman
written by: Michael McCarthy
Life goes on. I knew my period of mourning was not over, but there came a moment when I felt myself coming up for air.
One evening the doorbell rang,
‘Hallo.’ I said into the intercom.
‘Oh. Hi. Olivia?’
‘That depends.’
‘Fair enough. I’m Lenny, an old drinking partner of K’s. He gave me your address.’
‘Why did he give you my address?’
‘Originally, because he said, on more than one occasion, that if I was really interested in meeting you, as I’d often said, I should ring you because he knew we’d get along. So here I am.’
‘I am Olivia. Come up.’
I buzzed him in. I liked the sound of his voice, there was something trustworthy about it. I wasn’t looking for romance, I’d already made the mistake of thinking I’d found a kindred spirit since K died, an opera singer, but we hadn’t really hit it off.
Standing in my doorway, I could hear Lenny on the stairs, and then I was watching him approach me, he was tall and broad with a big smile on his tanned, heavily lined and ruggedly handsome face which was framed by thick, grey, shoulder length locks.
‘I smell smoke. You don’t look like a smoker.’ He said.
‘The traces of my last cigarette, of not many. Anyway, what does a smoker look like?’
‘Me. But I’ve stopped.’
‘When did you stop?’
‘Yesterday.’
‘And why did you stop?’
‘Social exclusion. Why are you giving up?’
‘They say it’s not good for the skin. I knew that anyway but smoking for me was also about the look.’
‘You surprise me.’
‘It sounds shallow. I agree.’
‘If it feels good, do it.’
‘Is that your philosophy?’
‘Part of it.’
‘Make yourself at home.’
‘I’d be delighted.’
His good humor was just what I needed at that moment.
I showed him into the flat and on into my front room. He was dressed in denim and had a battered, beige duffel bag over his shoulder. He sank into my couch with a sigh, dumped the bag on the floor, pulled off his shoes, and lay his feet to rest on the bag.
‘What can I get you?’
‘A cold beer, please.’
‘I’ve still got some of K’s favorite beer in the fridge.’
‘If it was good enough for him, it’s more than good enough for me.’
‘Glass or bottle?’
‘Glass, please.’
I returned with a glass of rosé for myself and Lenny’s beer.
‘What shall we drink to?’ I asked.
‘An irreplaceable partner?’
‘Perfect.’
‘We never had the chance to say goodbye. It’s still difficult to believe, I’ll never see him again.’ He said, looking sadly into his beer.
‘Maybe you will.’
I told him briefly about K’s nocturnal ‘visit’ to me after his death, leaving out the intimacy of course, but mentioning the drinks on the balcony table.
‘That’s incredible.’
‘And what a memory.’
‘Too true. How are you feeling now?’
‘It could be worse. I’ve lost my parents, a close friend, Otto, and finally, the hammer blow, K, all in a relatively short space of time. I need to somehow recover, if that’s the right word.’
‘Maybe you need me. I don’t mean romantically or anything, just as a friend. I’m reliable and loyal.’
‘Really? I like a man who knows his strengths.’
‘K always said I was a good listener.’
‘Somebody had to be. I wasn’t.’
‘It’s not everybody’s role in life.’
‘You said, you were interested in meeting me. Why?’
‘It was the way K spoke about you, your open relationship, just everything.’
‘What else did you and K talk about?’
‘We’d start off talking about anything and everything. Then we’d slowly get into the deep stuff.’
‘I don’t think most people realized how deep he was.’
‘I’d agree with that. We had some fascinating discussions about life, the hereafter, people, etc, etc.’
‘That was something else I took for granted with K. He’d ramble on about this, that, and the other, and I’d just pay lip service to his views.’
‘You’re really coming down hard on yourself.’
‘Guilt.’
‘You know, he wouldn’t want you to sink into a trough of despair.’
‘You’re right. Let me take you out for a meal. You’re the first friend of K’s I’ve ever really talked to.’ I said.
‘Or, do you have something in the fridge. He always raved on about how you two spent most of your time together in your flat.’
‘That’s true.’ I sighed heavily.
‘I was very envious of your relationship.’
‘Really?’
‘No question.’
We looked at each other, his eyes were a dark, rich brown. I saw kindness and honesty in them.
‘One of my little women always ensures there’s something for the unexpected guest or guests on hand.’
‘Little women?’
‘Yes, they’re a group of ladies whose sole aim in life is to remove any possible burden from mine. They’re devoted to me.’
I saw his eyes widen.
‘That’s an example of why I wanted to meet you.’ He said.
‘Now I understand.’
I went to check the food situation in the kitchen.
Sure enough, in the freezer, there was a mound of penne and a bowl of Arrabbiata sauce, nobody made it sharper than my little women. I put it in the microwave and
filled a couple of glasses with rosé and another couple with water, and then I called Lenny.
‘Dinner is served.’
As he slid into a chair at the table, it suddenly came to me,
‘I’ve just realized, you’re Lenny the lensman.’
‘Correct.’
‘And you were a regular on social media until suddenly you weren’t. I used to like looking at your photos.’
I remembered googling Lenny Koch, photographer. He was quite good-looking with thick, blonde hair tumbling onto his shoulders and a three-day beard, and, judging from his photo, looked to be in his late 30s to early 40s, which probably, meant he was now older, which the man in front of me clearly was. According to his website, after years of working in war zones, he’d switched to concentrating on portraits of figures of influence.
‘Thank you.’
‘And I loved those pictures of interesting statues and monuments taken by your followers on their travels.’
‘I used to like posting them.’
‘Why did you stop?’
‘People were sending me all sorts of weird and sick photos. It was supposed to be a fun site and not what it became. It was overwhelming.’
‘Dig in.’
‘I love pasta and Arrabbiata, especially this.’
He said after swallowing a mouthful.
‘Do you live locally?’
‘In Munich. When I’m in town, I stay at my late parents’ old flat near Clint’s.’
‘Is there somebody special in your life at the moment, Lenny?’
‘There was, but we’ve just split up.’
‘Why, if I may ask?
‘We were committed, but not to each other. But we’re still good friends.’
‘You mean you were committed to somebody else?’
‘No. To settling down with somebody.’
‘Are you looking for somebody else?’
‘Not feverishly.’
‘What’s the attraction of photographing figures of influence for you?’ I asked.
‘I should really say portrait photography. I think people are usually not what we perceive, they’re often stronger or weaker than they seem. I can show that in my work or hide it, make the subjects more appealing or caring. Not surprisingly, I’ve taken pictures of many politicians and business moguls.’
‘So, you’re in demand?’
‘Put it this way, I’ve got a good reputation. Simplicity is my forte.’
‘Only as a photographer?’
‘It’s a standard I strive for in all avenues of my life.’
‘Another part of your philosophy?’
‘Yes. You’re right.’
Inevitably, the conversation wended its way back to K.
‘He was always in a good mood with me, even if he wasn’t. If you see what I mean?’ He said.
We were sitting on the sofa together. I looked at his eyes again. They were reassuring.
‘Yes, I do. You know something has occurred to me, K probably did mention you, but I wasn’t listening.’
‘Don’t punish yourself.’
He put his arm around my shoulders, and I felt the floodgates open. This had been happening a lot since K died. Often unexpectedly.
‘I wish I could punish myself.’
‘Believe me, you are. Nobody’s perfect. He was so happy with you.’
‘Did he really say that?’
‘Yes. But he never said it after a few drinks. It came from the heart.’
I let the tears flow freely, my whole body shaking while Lenny held me and gently stroked my back. It felt good to cry in somebody’s arms instead of alone.
After a while, I got up and went to a cupboard beside the doorway to the balcony and came back with a white cloth, dabbing my cheeks and eyes.
‘You do know what you’ve got in your hand, don’t you?’
‘What do you mean?’ I said, looking at him blankly.
‘That’s a Stones’ t-shirt you’re using.’
I looked at the red tongue.
‘How did that get here? The clothes K left here are in my wardrobe, where they’ll stay.’
‘Are you thinking, what I think you’re thinking?’
‘Yes. I would say so.’
‘That would be a comfort, wouldn’t it?
‘You’re right. It would help me keep going.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with that. Remember the song, ‘Whatever gets you through the night?’’
‘Yes. Now tell me something you know about me.’
‘That I’m a few years older than you.’
‘I always wanted a big brother.’
‘Now you’ve got one. I’ll always be there for you. That’s the very least I can do.’
‘Good. Because I’ll always need you.’
I said that because with all this death around me, I’d inevitably thought about Ernst’s mortality. I could do a calculation as to his age but, to my mind, that would prick his, for me, ‘invulnerability’.
‘K was also a good listener. Somebody I could talk to and trust.’ He said.
‘Talk to me.’
‘I get quite low from time to time. He could always lift me out of it.’
‘You’ve got my phone number, I take it?’
‘No.’
‘I’ll give it to you. Ring me whenever you feel the need.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I mean it.’
We both retreated into our own thoughts, and although we were both silent, we had clearly established an understanding, and the silence between us was not awkward.
‘Give me another example of your personal philosophy.’
‘Things happen because they do.’
I thought about that for a few minutes. Lenny was watching me, waiting patiently for my response.
‘I’ve lost the love of my life, but he wouldn’t want me to curl up and hide away or see him in everyday objects. He’d want me to get on with living.’
‘He would, but don’t force it. Let it happen, it will.’
‘K’s outlook was similar to yours.’
‘He always said, ‘It is what it is.’’
‘Don’t I know it!’ I laughed.
We exchanged happy but tired smiles and raised our glasses to each other.
Eventually, Lenny fell asleep on the sofa. I carefully removed his empty beer glass from his hand and covered him with a blanket. Then I took a peep inside his bag, it seemed to be just spare clothes and an expensive-looking camera. I knew an expensive and top-of-the-range camera when I saw one. I had a history with more than one top photographer. Then I pushed his hair back and kissed him lightly on the forehead.
I slept soundly, one of the few occasions since K had died.
In the morning, I woke up to the sound of Lenny moving around. It was a nice feeling to have a man I liked staying overnight in the flat again.
Later, over breakfast, he said,
‘I asked K once, how serious it was between you two.’
‘And?’ I said, keen to hear.
‘He answered, ‘‘It went beyond serious a long, long time ago.’’’
‘That’s beautiful. By the way, would you be interested in seeing K’s old flat?’ I asked spontaneously.
‘I would, yes. He invited me a million times, but we never quite got around to it.’
As usual, the traffic was slow-moving on that road, and as we waited to enter the graveyard parking area next door to the house, I told him,
‘I’ve decided, as I own the house, not to rent out his flat. I want to keep it as it is.’
‘Like a shrine?’
‘Yes, in a way.’
Finally, we entered the house and walked slowly up the stairs. Apart from the usual sounds and smells, there was something else in the air. Not a smell or a sound but something lingering and slowly fading. Nobody else would have been aware of it
because, I later realized, it wasn’t there. I wanted there to be a trace of K. In fact, I needed there to be a trace. But there couldn’t be.
Lenny followed me around the flat as I opened all the windows. Neither of us said anything, there was no need.
Then I saw Lenny lean out of the bedroom window.
‘You know, one time, after making love, K and I were leaning out of that window, and I had the brilliant idea that we should get a photo of ourselves naked, and maybe get it printed on a t-shirt or, even better, on a record sleeve.’ I said.
‘I like your ideas.’
‘You know, that photo would have frozen us in time, now I just feel adrift, cut off.’
‘About that picture. Were you serious?’ He asked, after a few minutes.
‘Very.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘Well, I asked an old acquaintance of mine, the photographer, Takumi, if he would do the honors.’
‘You know, Takumi? He’s a legend!’ Lenny almost shouted, clearly impressed.
‘I’ve known him for years.’
‘You do move in rarefied circles.’
‘So does he.’
‘I’ve always wanted to meet him, preferably in his studio. He’s an icon.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’ I smiled.
‘What did Takumi say, when you asked him?
I joined him at the window.
‘He said, he never photographed the same person twice. The look, the effect, would be diluted. It couldn’t be as striking or as unique as the original.’
‘A complete one off.’
‘Definitely. As you’ve, no doubt guessed, he did take some snaps of me, but it wasn’t a sitting as such. I was in his studio, and I happened to be naked and, as usual, he had his camera to hand, and it just happened.’
‘No wonder K was enthralled by you. That’s another example of why I wanted to meet you.’
‘You say the nicest things. But we never seemed to get around to finding another photographer.’
‘K never mentioned it.’ He said.
‘He wasn’t that keen, to be honest.’
‘Don’t misunderstand me, but if you’re still interested in some kind of special photograph, I’m your man. No charge.’
‘You just want to see me naked.’
‘I’m your brother, remember?’
‘Sorry, yes. That would be a bit naughty. What are your plans for the evening?’
‘Drinking.’
‘You can stay with me tonight, if you like.’
‘I would like to. Thanks.’
‘This time, I’ll open the sofa, it’ll give you more room.’
We drove back to my flat, discussing the photo.
‘You know what? Let’s talk about it on the balcony. I’ve had this idea in my mind for weeks, it’s moved on from the original idea with K, I still make little changes from time to time, but basically, I know what I want.’
‘I like a woman who knows what she wants.’ He smiled.
He knew more about me than I thought.
Within minutes, we were sitting on the balcony, drinks in hand.
‘What is your idea?’ Lenny asked me.
‘Ready?’
‘Ready and waiting.’
‘Here we go, I’m sitting on my balcony, a near-empty glass of rosé in front of me, and directly opposite on the table there’s a half-full glass of beer. My hair is tousled, and my face is glowing with a sheen of perspiration. I look tired and sad. I’m wearing a white, flimsy, translucent dressing gown, it’s almost completely open, both of my breasts are partially visible, as is one thigh leading up to my breast, where the gown has completely fallen away. I’m looking slightly to one side in front of me as though my eyes are following the movements of somebody, and one of my hands is raised in what looks like a hesitant gesture of farewell.’
I waited, watching Lenny, who seemed to be deep in concentration.
‘What do you think?’ I said finally.
‘I love it. It’s sexy, melancholic, and thought-provoking.’
‘And you’ll do it?’
‘I can hardly wait.’
We clinked glasses.
‘Do you have any ideas?’ I asked.
‘No, your idea is perfect. It’s brilliant, Olivia. It’s you, being you.’
‘It’s just so sad that K can’t be in it, it’s how we spent many summer evenings, me in my gown and K in a towel wrapped around his waist. Just us on the balcony with a couple of glasses.’
‘Just one question, in color or black and white?’
‘Colour.’
‘To be honest, Olivia, I would recommend black and white.’
I looked at him,
‘Lenny, you’re the expert, and you’re damn right.’
I leaned forward and tapped his knee.
Later, I lay in bed thinking about the picture long after Lenny had fallen asleep on the sofa, glass in hand again.
I loved that scene. K may not be in it, but it would never have happened without him.
‘When can we do it?’ I asked Lenny the next morning.
‘The sooner the better.’
‘Don’t you have to arrange equipment and things?’
‘I’ve got a brand new camera, the most up-to-date model, and I’ll get a spare from the flat, that’s all I need.
‘What about screens and stuff?’
‘The light here is perfect.’
‘Make up?’
‘You don’t need any, apart from a wet sponge for your face.’
‘So that’s it, you and your camera?’
‘Me and my camera.’
‘When?’
‘You tell me.’
‘Tomorrow afternoon? I’d like to soak myself in anticipation.’
‘About three?’
‘Three.’
That night, I sat on the sofa with Lenny, sipping an espresso, rescheduling several appointments, and thinking about my forthcoming photo session while Lenny watched television.
I decided on an alcohol free evening, he didn’t.
The next day, I joined Lenny on the balcony in my white gown and nothing else. I could see he was unnerved by my appearance, lesser men had crumbled when faced with me in a state of undress. I could understand why.
‘You look ready.’ He said.
‘And raring to go.’
I messed up my hair and dabbed my face with the wet sponge and adopted my planned pose with Lenny looking suitably impressed. I looked and felt great. I exposed more of my body than planned, I knew the camera had fallen for me, and then I thought, was there any point in wearing my gown at all?
Lenny was walking around the balcony with his camera to his eye as though readying for a shot. He positioned himself on the threshold between the balcony and my front room. Finally, just as I let my gown slide decorously to the floor, he held a finger up and took a shot. I wasn’t sure just how much of me was on display.
He stayed in that position for several seconds, then said quietly, ‘It’s perfect.’
‘Let me see. I can’t wait any longer!’ I shouted, grabbing my gown and holding it against the front of my body, and springing up from my chair.
He held the camera in front of my face and showed me my image.
I was literally speechless.
After a second or two, I reacted.
‘Wow! That’s brilliant. I look great.’
‘You really do. You’ve got a wonderful body. Seriously.’
‘I know. It looks even more special because I’m in profile.’
‘And black and white.’
‘Absolutely right. I’m over the moon.’
I grabbed his face between my hands and kissed him passionately on the lips, eventually we both, reluctantly, withdrew.
When I’d unwillingly made myself a little more decent, we sat on the balcony with our drinks and chatted.
‘I can’t believe it all went so quick.’ I said.
‘You sound disappointed.’
‘No, not at all.’
He showed me the picture again.
I stared long and hard.
‘You’re right. It’s perfect.’
At some time in the evening, we found ourselves together on the sofa, half in and out of each other’s arms. I’d insisted on opening a bottle of champagne, only the best would do, from the vineyards of a special friend.
I awoke first to find we were sharing a blanket, and there was one empty and one nearly empty champagne bottle on the table. I looked under the blanket, we were both still fully dressed. Lenny’s mouth was open, and his breathing was catching in his nose, and the first thought that came into my mind was, I could do worse.
Then he began to stir and stretch.
Opening his eyes, he said,
‘You know, there’s something I need to tell you.’
My head was swimming, so I made what I hoped was an appropriate sound of encouragement.
It was still dark outside. Lenny reached for the nearly empty bottle, looked at me, I shook my head, and he drained it with one swig.
‘While I was gearing up to take the shot, I felt somebody near me. Then I felt a hand grip my shoulder, I knew that feeling well, it was something K and I always did on meeting, taking leave, and during conversations. We were more than drinking partners, we were very close. I knew it was him. I looked around, but of course, he wasn’t there. I say, grip, I don’t know how else to describe it. I tried to take the picture, but the camera didn’t respond. The ‘grip’ loosened, then I understood immediately, he was waiting for the right moment, and it was the second you dropped your gown. He knew there’d be just one chance of a great picture. I felt the ‘grip’ again, and I pressed the button, and I had the picture. He could read you, and he did. And I felt him strengthen the ‘grip’ on my shoulder and, just as quickly, it was released, but the sensation remained for a too short while.’
‘You’re sure it wasn’t your imagination? I mean, we’d been talking about him.’
‘I thought of that, and I’m 100% sure it was him.’
‘Fantastic. I’m so pleased for you.’
‘There’s more. He knew how much the idea of that photo meant to you, and he wanted to see you enjoying it.’
‘He also came to see you. And he knew you’d take the perfect picture, after all, he knows my body better than anybody.’
‘You meant, knows and not knew, didn’t you?’
- Olivia meets Lenny the Lensman - May 27, 2026
- Top of the Shop - November 16, 2025
- The Floaters - June 5, 2025
