Something About Love: A YA contemporary romance in verse (11 page)

Clean, and

Exciting in every way.

I captured the exact right moment,

With the exact right specs,

With the exact right model.

A thrill shoots through me, and

I know: Trevor was right.

I do absolutely adore everything about photography.

I mutter again,

“I hate him.”

“NO SCHOOL TODAY,”

I announce to Gramma-Linda

As soon as Dad leaves for work.

“You’ve been working me to death.”

I hold up my camera.

“Let’s go shoot something.”

Gramma-Linda looks up from the pile

Of supplies she’s brought.

“No school? Shoot something?”

She slips her glasses off and

Peers at my camera.

“It’s Friday,” I whine.

“I’m sick of reading, and

History, and

Chemistry.”

I hurry toward her to help her stand.

“I’m all caught up. Please,

All you have to do is wait in the car.”

I glance over my shoulder to the front door.

“But I have to get out of here.”

This week has been a bear, with

Boring days and long lessons, an

Absence of Jacey as she studies for midterms with Mason, and

Only Rose to drive to dance now and again.

I haven’t heard from Trevor at all,

Not even a text.

I never hear from Mom, so

That’s not new.

Dad compliments my cooking and

Checks with me about school, and

That’s it.

“Oh, all right,” Gramma-Linda sighs.

“But it’s cold out there.

Get a sweatshirt.”

I don’t care that she’s being overprotective.

She wants me to wear a sweatshirt?

I’ll wear a sweatshirt.

“DON’T LOOK AT ME,”

I complain.

I’d only gotten about two dozen shots of

Gramma-Linda before she noticed I was

Taking her picture.

“Just do what you were doing.”

She resumes watching the wind blow through

The leaves, but

The shots aren’t the same.

She knows I’m shooting now.

It’s the moments when people don’t know

I’m clicking away

That I want to capture.

The look of contemplation as they consider something important, or

Worry about money,

Their children, or

Their job.

As they live life.

The thrill of seeing a dragonfly, or

Listening to the trees sing, or

Whatever it was that had brought

The gentle joy to Gramma-Linda’s face.

I sigh as I lower my camera.

I can only hope one of the first few shots I got

Will be good enough.

“Brunch?” I ask her as we get in the car.

“I’ll buy.”

“You will not,” she says.

“You don’t even have a job.”

I laugh, and

Suddenly wish I was nine,

Like Rose, and

Could snuggle up to Gramma-Linda,

Breathe in her powdery smell, and

Tell her I love her.

“Okay, you pay,” I say,

My voice only slightly choked.

“And, Gramma-Linda?”

She swings her face toward me.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks.”

She pats my knee and

Says, “Of course, honey,” which

I know means,

I love you and want you to be happy.

“MMM,”

I moan as I eat the last bite of my pancake.

I remember when Mom used to look at me

With the same fondness in her eyes

That Gramma-Linda has watching me scrape

The strawberry syrup from my plate.

The small shake of her head,

The slight lift in her mouth,

Showing that she’s happy

I’m happy.

Showing that she loves me.

“Good?” she asks,

That love loud in her voice.

I nod and

Reach for another slice of bacon.

“Gramma?” I start.

“Do you think my mom still loves me?”

The peaceful expression on Gramma-Linda’s face

Disappears,

Gets covered with worry and

Tension.

“Of course she does, Livvy.

You know she does.”

I lean forward,

Resting my elbows on the table.

“Do I?

How would I know?”

Gramma-Linda picks up her fork,

Something she’d abandoned ten minutes ago

When she’d claimed she couldn’t eat another bite.

She begins pushing the cold eggs around her plate.

“She’s your mother.”

“So what?” I challenge.

“That doesn’t mean she loves me.”

“She does,” Gramma-Linda says.

“She’s your mother.”

“She doesn’t call me,” I say.

“Or text.

Or know what my grades are, or

If I’m home by curfew, or

What I like to do in my spare time.”

As I speak,

I realize that Gramma-Linda knows more about me than

My mom does.

“Well, for one thing.”

Gramma-Linda points her fork at me.

“She puts up with your attitude.

If that doesn’t take love,

I don’t know what does.”

I cock my head to the side,

Almost smiling at her.

“Okay, fine. She puts up with me.

I put up with the wind, and

The rain, and

Mosquitoes.

But I certainly don’t love them.

In fact, I hate them and

Only tolerate them because

I have no other choice.”

I slump back in the booth.

“That’s what she’s doing too, isn’t it?

Putting up with me because

She has no other choice.”

“No,” Gramma-Linda says forcefully.

“Now stop it.

Your mother loves you, because

You’re her daughter and

She cares about you.”

“She left me to live with Darren Youngblood.”

My voice is barely-there,

A whisper in the crowded restaurant.

“Well, everyone makes mistakes,”

Gramma-Linda says airily.

“But
you
make no mistake about it.

Your mother loves you.”

“How do you know?” I ask.

“Because I’m a mother, and

Until you become a mother you don’t

Understand how deep love can go.”

She replaces the fork carefully on the table.

“That love is endless, honey.

No matter what my children do—

No matter that your mother abandoned you,

Rose, and

Her husband—

No matter if I think it was the biggest mistake of her life—

I still love her.”

She pauses.

“It’s what mothers do.”

“STOP SQUIRMING,”

I tell Rose, who

Can’t seem to hold still for longer than four seconds.

“Are we almost done?” she asks

For the third time.

“Susie should be able to play now.”

“Fix your belt, and

We’ll do a couple more shots.

Then we’ll be done,

I swear.”

I lift my camera as

Rose checks her belt.

Click, click, click.

I don’t want these pictures of

The top of her head, but

I do want to catch her

Innocence when she glances up,

Preparing to get ready for the shots.

I want to see her in that pinch of time.

It happens fast, but

My camera takes eight pictures a second.

In one nanosecond,

I see the beauty of being nine years old,

Without social pressures,

Worries, or

Problems, and

I can only hope my camera captures it.

“Liv-vy,” she whines.

“I wasn’t ready.”

“Done,” I announce,

Already removing the lens so

I can store it in my pack.

“I LOVE HER,”

I whisper to myself as I edit the

Photo of Rose.

Her fingers are still lingering

On her belt.

Her face is open,

Unsmiling, but

Absolutely pure.

Her hair is windblown and

Wispy—one hundred percent

Rose.

This is how I see my sister when

She knocks on my bedroom door and

Wants to read to me.

Or when she asks Dad if

She can swing in the backyard, or

When she runs to Gramma-Linda

For a hug.

I lean away from my computer,

Well-aware of

How much I love my little sister—

How I will
always
love her.

Maybe Gramma-Linda is right
, I think.

Maybe Mom
could
love me.

“STUPID PHONE,”

I mutter.

I haven’t gotten a text from anyone in a couple of days,

Not even Jacey.

My phone’s on and

Working, but

There’s no new messages.

I consider texting Jacey

Just to see if she’s still alive after her midterms, or

Trevor

Just to see…something.

I tap on the phone’s camera and

Set it so I can see myself,

Trevor’s words echoing in my mind.

It’s been over a week since he said them, but

I can’t get them out of my head.

I study myself for a long moment before

Slamming the phone on my desk.

I want to text Trevor and

Tell him he had no right to lecture me about

Who I am or

What I want.

But that might be something Mom would do, and

I don’t want to be like her,

Don’t want to ruin one of the only good things in my life.

So I mute the notification sound on my phone and

Settle onto my bed with an old journal.

“LIVVY?”

Dad’s voice comes through my closed door

Later that night.

“Yeah,” I answer,

My fingers still flying through keyboard shortcuts

To erase Gramma-Linda’s few errant hairs,

To make the leaves less sharp,

To add clouds to the sky.

The door opens, and

He comes in.

“Have you got a minute?”

I pull my attention away from the photo

To focus on my father.

“Sure, what’s up?”

Dad fiddles with something in his pocket,

His eyes trained on the floor.

I snatch my camera from the desk and

Fire off several shots before he looks up.

Click, click, click.

His apprehension is as noticeable as

A scent on the air.

I set my camera on the desk

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

He smoothes his hair down with his hand, like

He can just as easily wipe away what he really wants to say.

“You’ve just been up here all day, and

Rose wants to watch a movie.”

“SIX PICTURES.”

I can’t believe my portfolio already has

Six pictures in it.

Three are of Trevor:

Resting on my couch,

Fishing off the dock, and

Leaning against that old kitchen table.

I’ve added The Innocence of Rose, and

The Elderly Watching Wind, and

A Concerned Father

To the mix.

They seem to fit together, but

Only to me.

The important people in my life,

I think, and

Immediately startle at the realization.

Trevor
is
important to me.

I close the folder housing the photos and

Reach for my cell phone.

He’s left me alone for long enough.

ARE YOU IGNORING ME?

I text him, then

Send the same message to Jacey.

I know they’re at Copper Hills while

I’m here, alone, and

Who knows what schemes they’ve been planning.

Neither of them responds immediately, which

Normally wouldn’t be suspicious.

But when I get nearly identical texts from them,

I suspect they’ve collaborated before answering.

Trevor:
Of course not.

Should I be?

Jacey:
No.

Why would I be?

I tap my phone against my palm,

Trying to figure out how to respond.

Me to Trevor:
I haven’t heard from you

In a while.

Me to Jacey:
I don’t know.

When will midterms be over?

Trevor:
Are you saying you

Miss me?

Me:
Yes. Wanna shoot this week?

I’m rewarded with a phone call.

“AM I HALLUCINATING?”

Trevor doesn’t even say hello, just

Launches right into his questions.

“Did you just admit to missing me?”

I can’t tell if he sounds hopeful, or

Not.

“You…might be hallucinating,”

I tell him.

“But I need more pictures for my portfolio.

I don’t have all year to finish this, you know.”

“Tell me when and where, and

I’ll be there.”

I know that’s not true.

He has football practice and

Weight-lifting

He can’t miss.

“Tomorrow?”

I bite my lip,

Surprised at how excited I am to see him.

My phone cuts out,

The indication that I’ve gotten a text.

I’m sure it’s from Jacey.

“Tomorrow, when

Tomorrow?”

Trevor asks.

“You tell me,” I say,

“I don’t know your schedule.”

“Yes, you do, Wings,” he says,

Real low, and

If I didn’t know better, I’d say

Flirty.

Maybe he
is
flirting with you.

My heart beat spikes, and

My chest feels cold inside.

“Six-thirty,” I say into Trevor’s waiting silence.