9. Maya
Maya
The photography club meets Wednesday evenings in the art building. I almost don’t go, I make it as far as the door before panic freezes me in place.
What if I’m terrible? What if I’ve lost whatever talent I had? What if…
“You coming in or planning to stare at the door all evening?”
I turn to see a guy about my age, camera bag over his shoulder, friendly smile.
“I’m… deciding.”
“First time?” I stutter on the words.
“Yeah.”
“Professor Chen’s great. Very chill, very welcoming. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
He holds the door open, and I don’t have a good excuse to run, so I follow him inside.
The room is warm, filled with about fifteen people in various states of setting up equipment or reviewing photos on laptops. Professor Chen spots me immediately.
“Maya! You came!” She looks genuinely pleased. “Everyone, this is Maya, she’s joining us today.”
A chorus of hellos, and then I’m swept into discussions about aperture settings and composition and the upcoming campus photo competition.
It’s… nice. Normal. Like being part of something that has nothing to do with mental illness or recovery or the constant work of staying alive.
I borrow a camera, a simple DSLR and follow the group outside for what Professor Chen calls “urban exploration photography.” We wander campus, looking for interesting angles, unexpected beauty in ordinary places.
I take a photo of frost on a window. The way afternoon light hits the library steps. A discarded coffee cup that somehow looks artistic in its abandonment.
Nothing groundbreaking, but it’s something. It’s a start.
“You’ve got a good eye,” the guy from earlier, his name is James, says, looking at my camera screen. “That composition with the light is really nice.”
“Thanks. I’m rusty.”
“Don’t see rust. Just see potential.”
This was a nice time for me, and I felt a little like my old self too, and I think I will be coming back.
When I get back to Carter’s apartment later that evening, I’ve been spending more time there, ostensibly to help with Ryder’s PT but really because my dorm feels too empty, both Carter and Ryder want to see my photos.
I show them reluctantly, waiting for criticism or pity or the particular kind of encouragement that feels like lowered expectations.
Instead, Carter grins. “These are good, Maya. Really good.”
“They’re just snapshots.”
“They’re more than that. They’re you’re starting again. That all that matters.”
Ryder studies the photo of the frost closely. “This one’s my favorite. Something about the way the light comes through, it’s like hope breaking through cold.”
I blink back unexpected tears. “That’s… that’s exactly what I was trying to capture.”
“Then you succeeded.”
Carter stands up and walks to the kitchen and Lennox hands him a bag, then they wall back over to me. “We got you something.”
“No, Carter got you something.” Lennox corrects him.
“I thought we were together now, which means that we are a ‘we’.” Carter shakes his head at her, and she playful laps the side of his arm. “Here.”
I take the bag, my brows narrow together wondering what he’s brought me. Looking in the back, I quickly give Carter the bag back.
“No.”
“Maya, you’re taking it so save us both the wasted time of arguing over it.” Carter moves closer to me. “You’re my sister, and there is nothing I won’t do to make you happy. Open it, love it, and smile.” He tells me then wipes my tears away which I didn’t even know escaped me.
“Thank you.” Are the only two words that escape me. I smile taking out the camera Carter brought me. I don’t know how he afforded it, but it’s going to be the one item I will treasure forever.
“I want to see all the pictures, which will be amazing.” Carter sits next to me, leaning closer as I look through the features, and the smile just keeps getting bigger. I’m excited to use it for the first time.
Later, after Carter and Lennox disappear into his bedroom and Ryder and I are left in the living room, he says, “I told my father about the injury today.”
“How did he take it?”
“About as well as expected. Lots of disappointment. Some anger. A lecture about Beaumont standards and not being soft.” His voice is tight. “He’s flying in this weekend to ‘assess the situation.’”
“That sounds terrible.”
“It is. He’ll probably spend the entire visit telling me everything I’m doing wrong and how I’m failing the family legacy.”
“Want me there?”
He looks surprised. “Why would you subject yourself to that?”
“Sometimes it’s easier to face terrible things when you’re not alone. You’ve been helping me, so I want to help you too.” I shrug. “We’re friends, I guess. And friends show up.”
“Friends,” Ryder repeats, like he’s testing the word. He turns to face me, and I stare at him for a moment.
Friends? Is it friendship I want from him? Or do I want more? Am I ready for more with someone?
I watch as he licks his lips, and my eyes linger there for a little too long. Why is my head shouting for him to kiss me. I mean I’ve thought about it the moment he took his top of for me. Wondered how his lips would be on mine, how he would take control, and how much it excited me.
He leans a little closer, and my stomach starts fluttering at the thought of his lips on mine. My heart is pounding as his lips brush softly over mine, and just before he kisses me, his phone starts ringing.
Ryder pulls away, and stares at me for a moment before answering his phone and walking away from me, and all I feel is gutted I didn’t get the kiss I wanted.