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.”
