Aria's Neighbor This Summer

1. Micah

Micah

The light shifts as a cloud passes overhead.

I step back onto the dewy grass of Whispering Pines Park, checking the display on my camera.

Not bad, but I need a wider angle to capture how the morning light plays across the clearing and between the two pine trees.

Photography has always been my refuge—a way to preserve moments exactly as they are, not how memory might distort them later.

Each photo is a tiny truth I can hold in my hands.

I’m so absorbed in adjusting my settings that I don’t register the sound of wheels on the path behind me. Taking a few more steps backward, I collide with something solid but yielding.

A startled laugh makes me spin around. My neighbor Aria stands there, her dark hair catching the sunlight, one hand steadying the stroller I just backed into.

“I’m so sorry,” I stammer, feeling heat crawl up my neck. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Hazards of the creative process,” Aria says, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. Her green eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles. “You were completely in the zone.”

In the stroller, her son Dean lets out a delighted gurgle, tiny hands reaching toward my camera. At eight months old, he’s all big eyes and curious expressions—taking after his mother in both regards.

“Hey there, little man,” I say, crouching down to his level. “Enjoying the morning adventure?”

Dean responds with another happy sound, his grin showing two tiny teeth. His chubby fingers grab for the camera strap dangling from my neck.

“He seems pretty taken with you,” Aria observes, sounding genuinely surprised. “He’s usually wary around people he doesn’t see often.”

I shrug, oddly pleased by this vote of confidence from an infant. “Kids have good instincts.”

“What brings you out so early?” Aria asks, glancing at my camera. “Work or pleasure?”

“Both, actually.” I straighten up, lifting the camera slightly. “Testing a new wide-angle lens. I’ve been wanting to branch out from portrait work, maybe add some landscape prints to the studio.”

Aria nods, but something flickers across her expression—a momentary tightness around her eyes that makes me wonder what’s going on beneath her polite smile.

In the four months since she moved in next door, our interactions have been limited to brief waves across the fence and occasional small talk about the weather.

She’s friendly but guarded, keeping to herself in a way that stands out even in our small town.

“How are you settling in?” I ask on impulse, immediately wondering if that’s too personal.

The question seems to catch her off guard. Her hand grips the stroller handle a bit tighter, knuckles whitening.

“We’re...” She hesitates, then exhales softly. “We’re managing. Some days are easier than others.” She offers a tired smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “But I don’t want to bore you with single mom woes. My boss mentioned your mother’s visiting soon?”

The shift in topic is deliberate, but I decide not to press.

“Your boss?” I ask.

“Yeah, Florence, the town vet. I’m the receptionist at her office. She’s good friends with your mom. And since this is a small town, I guess good news travels fast.”

I had forgotten Aria works for Florence. “Yeah, she arrives on Friday. I’m bracing myself.”

“That bad?” Aria asks, eyebrow raised.

I find myself laughing despite the genuine anxiety my mother’s visits always inspire. “My mom is... intense about certain things. Especially my persistent single status. Last visit, she brought three different phone numbers of ‘lovely girls’ she’d met on her flight.”

“Wow,” Aria says, wincing sympathetically. “That’s dedication.”

“To meddling, maybe,” I say, surprised at how easily I’m sharing this with someone I barely know. There’s something about Aria that makes her easy to talk to—a quiet attentiveness that draws words out. “She means well, but...”

“Why not just tell her you’re seeing someone?” Aria suggests, adjusting Dean’s blanket. “A fictional girlfriend from the next town over?”

“That might work if she wasn’t coming to stay with me,” I sigh. “She’d expect to meet this mystery woman or at least see evidence of her existence.”

Aria cringes. “Right. That complicates things.”

Dean begins to fuss in his stroller, small face scrunching up. Aria reaches into a side pocket for a pacifier, her movements practiced and efficient.

“I should get him home for his nap,” she says, though she doesn’t immediately move. “But seriously, good luck with your mom. If you need an emergency escape plan during her visit, flash your porch lights three times, and I’ll call with a photography emergency.”

The offer surprises a laugh out of me. “I might take you up on that.”

As she turns to go, I’m struck by an impulse I can’t explain. “Hey, Aria?”

She looks back, eyebrows raised in question.

“I’ve been thinking about doing a series on local families. Nothing fancy, just natural shots in familiar settings.” This is a half-truth at best; the idea is forming as I speak. “If you and Dean would be interested in a free photoshoot sometime, I’d love to have you both as subjects.”

Something in her expression softens. “That’s... that’s actually really nice. Dean doesn’t have any professional photos yet.”

“Great! Just come by the studio whenever works for you. Hometown Memories, on corner of Main Street and Juniper Street.”

“I know it,” she says with a smile. “I pass it every day on my way to work.”

Dean makes an impatient sound, and Aria gives me an apologetic look. “Duty calls. But thanks, Micah. Really.”

I watch her push the stroller down the path, struck by how little I know about my neighbor beyond the surface details. What brought a single mother all the way from Ohio to our tiny Montana town? What put that shadow behind her smile?

None of my business, I remind myself, turning back to pack up my camera. We all have our stories, our reasons for ending up where we are.

Twenty minutes later, I’m pushing through the door of Hometown Memories, the bell above the entrance announcing my arrival. The familiar scent of paper and ink greets me, along with the sound of my assistant Cory cursing at the printer.

“Technology troubles?” I ask, setting my camera bag on the counter.

Cory emerges from the back room. “Technology hates me. How’d the nature shots go?”

“Got some good ones. The light was perfect this morning.” I pull out my camera, scrolling through the images to show him. “Need to edit them, but I think there’s potential for that blank wall space by the entrance.”

Cory peers at the display, nodding appreciatively. “Not bad for a guy who usually photographs prom couples and babies.” He glances up with a smirk. “You seem surprisingly chipper for someone whose mother is arriving this weekend.”

I can’t help but smile, thinking of my mother—a force of nature in five-foot-two form.

For all her meddling and intensity, everything I am stems from her strength.

She raised me alone after my father walked away, working two jobs while somehow never missing a school event.

When I asked about my father as a kid, she never spoke a bitter word, just held me close and said, “Some people aren’t meant to stay in our lives, sweetie. That’s not on us.”

I shrug, unpacking my equipment. “It’s not that I don’t want to see her. I just wish she’d ease up on the matchmaking efforts.”

“Still trying to marry you off to every eligible woman between twenty and forty?”

“Last time she was here, she tried to set me up with Pastor Wilson’s niece.”

“The one with the puppet ministry?”

“The very same.” I suppress a shudder at the memory of that particular blind date. “I’ve told her a million times that I’ll find someone when the time is right.”

“Or you could just fake it,” Cory suggests, eyebrows waggling. “Pretend you’re already seeing someone. That would get her off your back.”

I roll my eyes, but the suggestion echoes what Aria had said earlier. “She’d see right through that.”

“Only if you’re unconvincing.” Cory leans against the counter, crossing his arms. “All you need is a willing accomplice. Someone who could play the part for the five days she is here.”

“Right, because so many women are lining up to be my pretend girlfriend,” I say, my tone dry.

“What about your neighbor? The one with the cute kid?”

My hands still on the lens I’m cleaning. “Aria? No way.”

“Why not? You said yourself that she’s nice. Plus, she’s new in town—probably doesn’t know many people yet. You’d be doing each other a favor.”

The idea is absurd, and yet... I find myself actually considering it. Aria had been the one to suggest the fictional girlfriend concept in the first place. And it would be just for five days, a simple arrangement between neighbors.

“Even if I were desperate enough to try this ridiculous plan,” I say slowly, “which I’m not—I can’t ask a single mother I barely know to participate in an elaborate lie to my mother.”

Cory rolls his eyes. “You’re overthinking it.”

I frown.

“Look,” Cory continues, “I’m just saying consider it. What’s the worst that happens? She says no, and you’re back where you started.”

“Or she thinks I’m completely inappropriate and avoids me for the next decade,” I counter, but I’m already turning the idea over in my mind.

The bell over the door chimes as our first client of the day arrives, effectively ending the conversation. But as I greet Mrs. Henderson for her real estate headshots, a corner of my mind keeps returning to the possibility.

Would it really be so terrible to ask? Just as neighbors helping each other out?

Probably. But as I guide Mrs. Henderson to the portrait area, I realize I’m still thinking about those green eyes and the way Dean had reached for me without hesitation.

Maybe Cory’s ridiculous suggestion isn’t entirely without merit. Maybe.