Love is Not Like a Photograph

Chapter 1

"What do you mean she called you?" I ask Angela, my best friend of twelve years.

"I don't know, Elle. My phone started ringing so I answered it and it was my mother."

"The one that lives in London?"

"Yeah," she says, looking as confused as I probably do.

"Not your step-mom, who lives in your house, but your actual mother that lives across the ocean?"

"Yeah. Do I need to spell it out for you, write it down on a piece of paper?"

I give her a pointed look before continuing, "Sorry, Ange, it's just that you haven't talked to her in what, fourteen years?"

"I know, it's crazy. I haven't talked to the women since I was three, I can barely remember her. She has never called, I get cards and a present sent to me on my birthday, but suddenly she knows my number and is calling me. I don't even know what to think," she says somewhat frantically.

Angela has never had a problem with her mom not being a part of her life. She has never been mad at her, or wondered what she was like, or even wanted any kind of a relationship with her. Her step-mom has been with her dad since Angela was four. They get along like any regular mother and daughter would. Her dad is one of her best friends and she has two amazing sisters. Her biological mother has never been a missing puzzle piece for her.

"So, what did she want?" I ask.

"She just wanted to wish me luck with my senior year, and she said that she wanted to talk to me. Just once a week, or even only once a month. Whatever I feel comfortable with. But she wasn't pushy, she just seemed genuine."

"What was she like?" I ask. I know Angela must be excited, even though she has never taken a real interest in her, she just heard her mom for the first time since she was a toddler.

She looks up at me with a small smile on her face, "She sounds different than I thought she would, I think," she says, "She sounded sweet, and kind and I don't know, just like a mom."

"Are you glad she called? Even though it was so out of the blue?"

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, Rachel has always been such a great step-mom. And between her and my dad, I've never needed anyone else. But now that we're graduating this year, and I'm getting older, I kind of think I might want to get to know her."

Just as she finished, the bell rings signaling that we need to move on to our next class. Angela and I both dump of the excess food off of our lunch trays before heading to the crowded hallways.

"Only three more long hours of the first day of our senior year, Elle, it's all going to go so fast," Angela says once we get past the large group of people standing near the lunch room entrance.

I nod, acknowledging what she is saying, "I have English next, what do you have?" I ask her, looking down at my schedule.

"AP chemistry with Mr. Kobolski. He hates me."

"I remember him; he's the teacher that you spilled chocolate milk on during lunch last year. He said that was his favorite shirt."

"I apologized for my clumsiness, but the guy still holds a grudge," she shrugs.

We part ways, but I turn around, hold back from laughing and mouth, "Good luck," before we disappear from each other's sights. She just rolls her eyes in response.

I sit in one of the back desks when I walk into my English class. I have always liked this subject. I love reading, and writing is something that I'm good at. But, with that said, I prefer pictures rather than words. Ever since I can remember I have loved photographs and film.