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Shayna grasped at it like it was a lifeline.
It was, of a sort.
Because putting the viewfinder to her eye narrowed her field of vision down to what was immediately in front of her. To what was manageable.
From behind the camera, she could control what she saw, and with what clarity, and at what distance.
It was part of what made her fall in love with cameras in the first place. That and the fact that when you held a camera, people looked at the lens, not at the photographer. You could observe exactly as you wished without being observed in return.
At least, that’s the way it felt sometimes. And years of looking at the world through a viewfinder had trained her to find the light and the dark and the detail and the emotion of life.
Right now, she felt grief for Dylan and fear that her family blamed her the way she blamed herself.
And in those emotions, what stood out to her on this beautiful day were all the shadows cast by the sun. The gingerbread cutouts cast intricate shapes upon the siding of Lincoln’s cottage. The circular spokes of a Civil War cannon’s wheel upon the grass. The way her own shadow laid on the ground next to that of an angel’s statue, as if they were both nothing more than a formless play of light.
Shayna finally allowed herself to wander into the heart of the cemetery, where rows of little white grave markers made interesting patterns of lines and diagonals depending on just how you looked at them. And she grabbed those images as well. The strange geometry of it. As if the grave diggers had attempted to impose some order on death.
When there was nothing orderly about it. Because it couldn’t possibly make sense that an otherwise healthy twenty-seven-year-old man should get killed by a drunk driver. Two months before his wedding. Because his stupid sister had asked him for help.
Yet that was exactly what’d happened to Dylan.
Suddenly, Shayna was bone tired. From the drive yesterday. From sleeping in a strange bed. From the long walk she’d taken in the heat today. From the way that grief could sneak up on you years later, as if reminding you to never get too comfortable in your own skin.
She wanted to go home. But the cemetery was a maze of paths, and from behind the view finder, she hadn’t been paying the closest attention. She followed the sound of traffic, hoping to get to the road, but found herself blocked by a tall, ornate iron gate. Locked.
Which was when she realized that her cheeks were wet. She batted the tears away and headed back in the direction from which she came, where she took a different path hoping it would lead her out.
“Are you okay, miss?” came a deep, rolling voice. An older black man sat on a bench, a brown and white dog laying against one foot, and a cane leaning against the opposite knee.
“Yes, thank you. I just got turned around.”
“Easy to do in here, unless you come all the time like me and Ziggy.” Upon hearing his name, the dog’s tail pounded out a rhythm on the sidewalk.
“Now I know,” she said, mentally pulling herself together. “I was taking pictures and wasn’t paying attention.”
The man tilted his head. “Well, I imagine you were paying attention to different things.”
Shayna blinked. “Yeah, I guess I was. Would you…mind some company?”
His smile offered the kind of warmth that made her think of seeing an old friend after a long time apart. The kind of friend who was so close that neither time nor distance could impact your friendship. You just picked up right where you left off every time.
“I like nothing better than company. Isn’t that right, Zig?”
Shayna’s butt had no more hit the bench then Ziggy sprang into a sitting position against her calf, so close that his paw was on her foot. She laughed. “Well, hello to you, too.”
“Now, now, Ziggy,” the man said.
She guessed that the dog was a terrier/pit bull mix. And as it looked up at her, its mouth fell open and its tongue fell out, making it look like the dog was goofily smiling up at her. “It’s okay,” she said as she patted his big block head. “I like dogs.”
“Well, I’m just warning you that once you start you can’t ever stop.”
Grinning, Shayna nodded. “I suppose that’s fair.” She looked up at the man. “I’m Shayna, by the way.”
“Pleased to meet you, Shayna. I’m Reuben.”
She held out her hand, and they shook. “Nice to meet you, Reuben,” she said, laughing as Ziggy put a paw on her knee as if protesting the pause in her petting.
“Told ya so,” Reuben said, chuckling.
