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One
Shawn
I’ve been away from Charleston so long, I’ve almost forgotten the way that everything in the city smells like the ocean. Eight years have gone by since I ran from the last foster home I was put in here. The best one I was ever in. Adults who actually gave a shit, the sweetest girl I ever knew who welcomed me as a brother with open arms.
And then there was Lucas.
Lucas Miller was the first guy I ever kissed. The first person to ever stand up for me. The guy I left when his sister got sick.
I’d been a foster kid with the Millers for about six months when Natalie was diagnosed with Leukemia. I heard their parents arguing one night about who was going to keep an eye on me, that I shouldn’t be at the hospital because I wasn’t technically family.
I’d packed my meager belongings and left that night. It wasn’t that I was angry with them; they were right. And they were always kind to me. But they didn’t need to be dealing with a hell-on-wheels kid like me when they needed to be with their daughter.
According to their social media, Natalie fought for a year before it took her at eighteen.
I’d wanted to go to her funeral, but I didn’t want to make the situation any worse for the Millers. I can’t imagine what they had to go through.
“You ready, Shawn?” Mark’s voice startles me out of the past, and I glance up to find him and his fiancée in front of the pineapple fountain in the city square.
“Yeah, sorry.” I offer them a smile. “You guys just be natural, all right?”
The evening light is perfect for the photos, and watching their happiness shine through the pictures I take is one of the reasons why I love my job so much. Freelance photography was hard at first, but once I started getting my name out—especially on social media—it got easier. Now I have work booked out for the rest of the year and well into the next.
Mark and Shanna have been two of my favorites. They wanted pictures for the entire week leading up to their wedding in places that were special to them as a couple. It’d be a little sickening if they weren’t so perfect for each other.
We started yesterday at the College of Charleston, where they met, and they even requested we take the photos as close to the time of the moment as we could get. So yesterday’s was early in the morning for orientation, and today’s is the evening for their first date.
I don’t pose them; they should just be natural with each other. Some people are camera shy, and I’m more involved in the process to get them out of their shell. But with Mark and Shanna, it’s as if they’re in their own little world. I might as well not even be holding a camera for all the attention they pay me.
I like it that way. To be good at my job, I have to make sure the person in front of the camera is comfortable. I can do that, but it’s not my favorite thing. I prefer to just be silent and observe. It worked for me when I was being bounced around in foster homes. Kept me safe. And while my clients aren’t going to fly off the handle and beat the shit out of me for breathing, the memories are still there.
The scars are still there.
I blink and refocus on the couple in front of me, catching the way the golden light from the sun plays in Shanna’s red hair as they walk down the pier to the water. They’re talking quietly to each other, holding the other’s hand. They’re so at peace. So content in each other’s orbit.
It makes me a little jealous. The only person I ever let myself get that close to was Lucas. He knew things I never told anyone else. Things I probably shouldn’t have even told him. Growing up in the foster system, I learned not to trust anyone. But Lucas somehow pushed his way into my world. And it was the best thing I ever let happen.
I blink and refocus, taking the final shot. “Got it. Come here and see. You guys look gorgeous.”
Mark and Shanna beam as they meet me near one of the wooden benches on the pier, tuck out of the way of the other people walking. Slowly, I go through the set of pictures I took, explaining what I’ll highlight to make them really stand out. Shanna has a great eye for which ones are the best, and I agree with every one of her choices. Mark doesn’t have quite the same talent, so I’m thankful he steps back and lets Shanna decide on most of them.
When I’m done, twilight is setting in. As I’m getting ready to leave, Shanna gives me a sudden hug.
“Thank you so much,” she says. “You’re amazing.”
I try not to let my body stiffen up too much when she throws her arms around me. I really don’t like being hugged—a side effect of being in the foster system—but I don’t want to upset her.
She kisses my cheek before pulling away. “I’m so glad you’re here to help us.”
“Of course.” I give her a smile, shake Mark’s hand, and then escape to my car. She’s an eight-year-old Honda SUV that probably needs to be traded in based on mileage alone, but this car was the first thing I ever owned. I’ve never been attached to anything materialistic because of the way I grew up, but this SUV has been through a lot with me.
I stow my equipment carefully in the back, then get in the front seat and start the engine up. It whines a little. I should get it looked at before I get back on the road. The constant travel is one of my favorite parts of my job, but it’s a lot of upkeep for the car.
Still, I have one more thing to do before I give her a rest for the night.
Traffic eases the further I get from the pier and onto the interstate. From there, I drive about twenty minutes until I pull off into a cemetery. Just because I wasn’t able to go to Natalie’s funeral doesn’t mean I don’t know where she was buried. I saw the information on Lucas’s social media page. Back when I was torturing myself and checking up on his life through that.
I haven’t looked him up in a few years.
