But the three I keep staring at are so relevant to how I feel in this moment.
The first photo was taken at my parents’ grave. Just a simple picture really, small forget-me-nots that had sprouted in the early spring. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground, but they’d already pushed through the hard dirt and bloomed. Maybe they knew I was coming and wanted to make sure I saw them.
In the photo you can’t even tell they’ve bloomed on graves. The photo is cropped short and close. But I’ll always remember that the flowers were on my parents’ grave.
Tyler was with me when I took it. It wasn’t the first, second or even the third time we’d gone out. But it was the first time I’d cried in such a long time and the one friend I’d met and trusted was there to witness it. I thought I was being sly asking him to drive to a cemetery hours away. Back to where I’d grown up. I hadn’t been there in so long, but on that day when Tyler said we could go anywhere, I told him about the angel statue at the front of a cemetery I’d once seen that would be perfect for the photography project.
I didn’t tell him that my parents were buried there, but he found out shortly after we arrived.
Part of me will forever be his for how he handled that day. For letting me cry and holding me. For not forcing me to talk, but being there when I was ready to.
Like I said, I never deserved him.
The second is a picture of the first place I’d rented after I ran away from Dixon Falls. I went from place to place, spending every cent I’d gathered over the years and not staying anywhere any longer than I had to. Until I found this farm cottage in the UK and met Rae.
She’s such the opposite of me in every way. And she reminded me of Tyler. The happiness and kindness, the fact that she never stopped smiling and joking. Some people just do that to you … and because of it, I stayed. For a long time.
She’s the one who took me to the bar in Leeds where I kissed another boy for the first time after Tyler’s death.
She’s the one who showed me how to really market my photography and introduced me to a gallery owner. She made me want to stay in that little cottage I’d rented for much longer than I’d planned. But feeling so happy and having everything be too easy felt wrong. It was wrong that I could move on and it made me feel like what had happened in the past was right, when I knew without a doubt that it wasn’t.
It would never be right and that realization made me see Tyler everywhere all over again. I needed to leave. It was okay to remember, but it wasn’t okay to forget. And I did leave. Each place I stopped at was closer and closer to Dixon Falls. At first I didn’t realize it. But when I picked this university, I was keenly aware that I’d only be hours away.
The third picture is only a silhouette I took in Paris.
I don’t know the people.
It’s the shadows of four men standing outside of a church with a deep sunset behind them.
From a distance, all I could see were the Cross boys. And I took picture after picture, snapping away as quickly as I could. As if they’d vanish if I stopped. I wanted them back badly. I wanted them to forgive me and tell me it was alright. After all, they were the only family I had for a long time and just like my parents, I lost them.
That picture hurts the most. Because there should be five people in the shot. And because when the men did leave the hilltop behind the church and come closer, they weren’t the Cross boys and I knew in that moment I’d never see them again. Daniel was never going to show up for me to stare at from a distance. It would never be them, no matter how much I prayed for it to happen.
Three pretty pictures, mixed in with the others. All hues of indigo, my favorite color, and all seemingly serene and beautiful. But each a memory of something that’s made me the person I am.
My phone vibrates with the reminder of the most recent message. It’s Daniel, of course. Come over.
I need to work, I text him and snort at his immediate response. No you don’t.
I do, in fact, need to work. I could easily work at his place. That’s what I’ve been doing and I actually enjoy it. I love it when he kisses my shoulder and tells me what he thinks of the photo I’m working on. He makes me feel less alone and he understands how I see the pictures and why they mean so much to me.
I want to apologize.
You did and I get it, I tell him even though it makes the ache in my chest that much deeper.
Please, just give me another chance.
Please is another word I’m not used to hearing from Daniel and as much as I want to give in, I need a little time.
I really do have to work. We can meet up next week. As I press send, I realize I’m caving in. Simply prolonging what is sure to end. But then I remember the men by the church. If I could go back in time and make them stand there forever so I’d never have to face the fact that they weren’t the Crosses, I would.
It hurts deep in my chest. Denial is a damning thing.
And that’s what this is, isn’t it? Just a futile attempt to deny that we could ever exist without our past tearing us apart.
The phone sits there silent, indicating no new message from him although I know he sees my response. Picking up a tissue from the coffee table, I dry my nose and pick myself up off the sofa.
Life doesn’t wait for you. That’s something I’ve learned well.
Before I can take a step toward the kitchen to toss the tissue, a message from Daniel comes in. I promise I will make it up to you.
I don’t know what to write back. There’s no way to make this right.
So instead I focus on the work that’s waiting for me and choose not to respond.
I’ve barely been active online for a week now. Instead I’ve been taking pictures. Lots of them. Some of Daniel in abstract ways. Others of little things that remind me of him from when we were younger. I haven’t posted those yet though. I’m not sure I will either. No matter how beautiful I think they are.
I haven’t answered messages or sent out any packages. I don’t even know how my sales are going. When you run a business all by yourself, you can’t afford to take time off. For years I’ve buried myself in my passion and work, although really I’d just been running from reality. From my past.
Staring at the message from Daniel, the black and white text that’s so easy to read, I can’t answer the one question that matters.
What am I doing?
SIX YEARS AGO
“Hey … hey …”
I hear a persistent voice but I ignore it. No one in this school has said a word to me. At least not to my face.
With a tug on my shirt, I’m forced to turn around and face a boy. A boy who’s nearly a man. He doesn’t have a baby face, and I can tell he shaves, but there’s a kindness about him that makes him appear young. And likable. Which is something I haven’t felt in the last two years.
“What are you doing?” he asks me and my forehead pinches.
I lift the pencil in the air and point to the chalkboard in science class as I say, “It’s called taking notes.”
The handsome guy laughs, a rough chuckle that forces me to smile. Some people’s happiness is simply contagious.
“No, I mean tonight.”
I don’t bother to respond other than to shrug. I do the same thing every night. Nothing. My life is nothing.