Camera

11 - Photograph

listened to the song on the side on repeat while writing this.

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11 - Photograph

Luke Waters

 I wasn’t strictly nervous. I wasn’t really thinking straight, but I knew it was something I had to do. So my mind was blank as I pulled my laptop to me and sat down at my desk, still in my school uniform. As I wrenched it open. As I opened Skype. As I waited to see if she was online.

 Then I was filled with a kind of buzzing awareness when I saw the little green dot next to her name.

 I was about to end a two year relationship; with Megan Wright.

 And I wasn’t particularly remorseful; I should’ve been but I wasn’t.

 I cared about Megan. I did. We’d known each other since we were in diapers, why wouldn’t I? But relationships screw everything up. I don’t know if we’re going to stay friends after this.

 I called her.

 She answered.

 In the back of my mind I was wondering what the fuck she was doing online at six in the morning.

 Her face swam into view on screen, and I took a deep breath. She was in her room, darkness behind her and face illuminated by the glow of her laptop – a Mac like mine, with a girly sticker on the back.

 Her grey eyes were cool, cautious; her mouth was set in a firm line. Her hair was uncombed, a tangle of chestnut locks around her face, and she looked tired and pale.

 “Hello, Luke.”

 There was a time I thought Megan was beautiful, but it’s only know I realize what that word really means.

 Megan can be hot, she can be sexy, but I don’t think she can be beautiful in my eyes, not really. Maybe with the right person she can be. But I’m not the guy for her. I realize that now.

 “Megan, I –“

 “Are you going to apologize?”

 I smiled a little.

 “Yes. Yes, I am.”

 She didn’t smile back.

 “You don’t have to.”

 “I should’ve called you.”

 “You don’t have to,” she said again.

 She was mad.

 Megan had three stages of getting mad. One, where she was mad, but not a lot, so she would just give me the silent treatment for a day but then a few sweet words and sorry’s and kisses would make it okay by nighttime. The second stage was when she got pretty mad. Like the time I forgot to feed her pet hamster Cannon (don’t even ask who named it) for two days when I was babysitting him. This entails screaming and foot-stomping, and usually blows over in a week’s time.

 The third was red zone. Danger zone. Breaking point. And I’ve only experienced it once.

 Once.

 And that was six years ago when I forgot her twelfth birthday.

 That moment when she said “You don’t have to” seemed to be the second (and last) time.

  I swallowed and stared at her, not knowing how to handle the situation. Her face was calm, but it was like the calm before a fierce storm. And I didn’t know what to expect.