This is What Goodbye Looks Like (21 page)

I raise an eyebrow. “I think you’re threatening me, but I have no idea if you’re telling me to stay away from him or get closer.”

Brie sighs and rolls her eyes, like I’m missing something obvious. “I’m saying you’re being offered a very fragile and very beautiful piece of artwork. So get with the program and start appreciating it.”

Chapter Twenty-One

I think weather-reporting must attract pathological liars in Vermont, because the sunny day we were promised is nowhere to be seen. Clouds bruise the skyline, dark and puffy and threatening a storm. I have on enough layers to make a polar bear jealous, but I think I didn’t get my hair totally dry after my shower, because it feels like someone’s pressing an ice-pack against my neck.

I step a bit closer to the heater in the corner of the library, trying to soak up as much warmth as possible without abandoning my spot by the window. It’s beautiful out there, even if the weather seems determined to make everyone miserable.

“It’s freezing today,” Seth says from behind me, his voice echoing in the near-abandoned library. He’s only three minutes late, which is early for him, and he looks a little smug about it as he strides over to my side. Koda wags her tail in greeting and licks my hand, but Seth doesn’t bother reprimanding her this time.

“But it’s pretty,” I say as I pat Koda’s head. “Makes the cold worth it.”

Seth reaches out and presses a hand against the window. Little edges of condensation seep out around his palm, misting the pane. “Snow or rain?” he asks, posing yet another either-or question. I keep waiting for him to get bored of asking them, or for me to get bored of answering, but so far, neither has happened.

“Snow,” I reply, surprising myself. “This place is kind of growing on me.”

He smiles just a little and then asks, “Did you bring your camera again?”

“Yeah,” I say, holding it up even though he can’t see. “I’m ready to go.”

At least I’m hoping. I decided to ditch my cane today, figuring my knee would be strong enough to walk without it for an hour or two, and it would let me easily use both my hands to work the camera. But I’m just hoping my knee doesn’t end up buckling and making me regret the decision.

“Good.” Seth pulls away from the window, and the outline of his hand quickly fades. “We can just take a few pictures today, and then maybe some next weekend. And yeah. Then we’ll be done.”

I know it’s not true—the project is going to take way more time than that to finish. But I think pointing that out is just going to upset him, so instead I just softly ask, “You wanted to take the next shot at the West Gate, right?”

“Yeah.” He gives a curt nod. “Let’s go.”

The gate is on the complete opposite side of the library, and as we head outside, the wind surrounds us with prickling cold and the crisp scent of snow. By the time we’re close to the small courtyard in front of the West Gate, my hair is half-frozen to my neck, and I can’t stop shivering. The only part of me that’s not cold is my knee, which throbs hotly with each step I take, but I bite back the urge to complain.

Seth strides a few yards ahead of me, Koda trotting to keep up with his pace. He keeps stopping abruptly and waiting for me to catch up, fidgeting until his boots leave crunched prints in the snow. He lets Koda guide him over to the gate, and he leans against the wrought iron, not even flinching when a chunk of snow dislodges and tumbles onto his shoulder.

The sun pokes through the cloud-cover then, lighting his hair in a momentary halo. Seth tilts his chin up, his shoulders relaxing as the sunlight warms him. He looks unearthly, like a living, breathing snow angel. Wind cuts through the open space of the courtyard, an icy whip against my skin, but it doesn’t seem to bother him.

Before I can stop myself, I raise my camera and snap a photo of him. He flinches at the sound of the shutter clicking and turns to me, a frown on his cold-reddened lips. But I can’t bring myself to feel guilty. A surge of excitement hits me as I stare at my camera’s screen and see the picture load onto the new memory card. After months of not doing any photography, the sight is enough to make me feel almost giddy.

“Did you just take a picture of me?” Seth demands.

“Sorry,” I say, stepping closer to him. “You just looked so...”

He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Peaceful,” I say, knowing it sounds ridiculous the moment the word escapes.

He lets out a low chuckle. “You’re sure you’re the one who can see?”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says with a shrug, but his relaxed expression is officially gone, and his usual solemn one replaces it. “This weather reminds me of him. Parker. When it got cold like this, we’d spend the whole day in the attic, just hanging out and playing cards. My dad bought me a Braille deck when I was really little, and that’s how I learned my numbers. Playing Go Fish with Parker.”

“That’s sweet,” I say, but the words feel numb on my lips.

He shakes his head, as if warding off the memory. “Anyway. I’m rambling again. You have a bad habit of making me do that, you know.”

“Sorry,” I murmur.

“And you also have a bad habit of apologizing too much.” He offers me the smallest of smiles and then asks, “Do you want me to give you some space while you set up your camera? I know Parker always hated people focusing on him when he was adjusting the settings.”

Honestly, yeah, my heart is hammering knowing Seth’s going to be hovering nearby while I’m taking the first pictures. The beginning shots of a series are always terrible, and it’s strangely nerve-wracking having people around while I fumble with the settings to figure out lighting and framing.

But I guess Seth won’t technically be watching. And even if he
could
see me work, I wouldn’t have the heart to send him away. With Parker gone, this project belongs to Seth now, even if I’m the one taking the photos.

“It’s fine,” I say. “You can stick around.”

We lapse into silence as I tug off my mittens and flip a few switches on my camera, getting it ready. At first, I take pictures of things that will never end up in the final project—a frost-coated fence post, a sparrow perched at the top of the gate, an ivy leaf with a dollop of snow clinging to its veins. The glare of the snow makes it hard to read my digital screen, but adjusting the settings is second nature. Lower the ISO a bit, change the exposure mode, tweak the focus points. I keep the white balance and zoom mode on their automatic settings, since I have faith in Camille’s camera. It’s always served me well.

After a few minutes, I have the settings perfected for the atmosphere, and my heart has slowed to a strong, steady beat. With my mittens off, my hands are already chilled to the bone, but I feel a sort of energy I haven’t experienced in months. I’d forgotten how invigorating it is to capture a part of nature, to lock away a piece of time in an image.

“You’re good at this,” Seth says.

His words startle me as they break the silence, and my voice is tight as I ask, “What do you mean?”

“Photography. You’re good at it.” He steps away from the fence post he’s been leaning on, and the sparrow takes flight from the top of the gate, flitting away to a nearby tree. Seth cocks his head at the sound of rushing wings, and then turns back to me.

“You take pictures just like Parker did. Slow and quiet. Most people are so loud when they do photography, always moving around stuff, talking about what’s wrong with the setting. But you just take your time and make the photo pretty, not the setting.”

I lower my camera, letting it hang loosely from the strap around my neck. The plastic case is cold and hard against my skin, but the sensation is familiar, and it’s the most comfortable thing I’ve felt in months. “I think that’s why I always prefer taking pictures of people,” I admit.

He raises an eyebrow. “Because people can make themselves look pretty without you having to interfere?”

“No,” I say. “Because they always try to make themselves look pretty, and then it’s even more of a challenge to make the pictures beautiful. And I like challenges.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m blind, or maybe I just suck at reading the dictionary,” Seth says. “But last I checked, there’s not much difference between something pretty and something beautiful.”

I trail my finger along the edge of my camera’s viewfinder, struggling to find the right words to explain. “Something is pretty if you can forgive its flaws,” I finally say. “But if it’s beautiful, it makes you embrace its flaws. So I think that’s the ultimate goal for most photographers. To be able to convince people that the things they consider pretty are actually beautiful.”

Seth nods slowly and the very corner of his mouth curls up in an expression that’s too broken to be a true smile. “Parker could do that,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” I say, thinking back to the photos Parker took before he died. “He was really talented. Honestly, it’s going to be hard to match his skill.”

Seth holds out his arms, like he’s a martyr embracing his fate. “Well, are you ready to give it a shot?”

I tap my camera. “This sort of shooting is painless, I promise.”

“Doubtful,” he says, but he offers me a small smile anyway.

I walk up to him and gently tug on his sleeve, guiding him toward the gate and the patch of snow there. “Come on,” I say, and he follows obediently, although his steps are stiff. I stop a few yards from the gate and peer around carefully. The snow here is fresh, without a single footstep marring the pure white that fell overnight.

“Are you okay taking your sunglasses off for a bit?” I ask.

He nods and slips them off, tucking them in his pocket. The color of his eyes seems even more striking out here, the green clashing against our stark white and grey surroundings. I quickly look away, trying not to stare, even though I know he won’t notice.

“Keep walking forward,” I tell Seth. “But first take three steps to the left.”

“Should I keep Koda with me?” he asks, gesturing to her. She wags her tail and looks over her shoulder at me, as if wondering the same.

“It’s supposed to look natural. And I’m pretty sure Koda is more attached to you than your shadow, so yeah, keep her.”

“Good point.” Seth ruffles his dog’s ears, not even bothering to reprimand her when she licks at his fingers.

He follows my directions then, stepping to the left before walking forward. It takes him right along the edge of the open gate, so as he steps through it, the main patch of snow is left undisturbed. His footsteps are mostly hidden by the shadows of the bushes that border the gate, and the gate looks just as untouched as it did when we first got here.

Crossing the threshold. It’s the fifth step in the Hero’s Journey, when the main character steps out of his ordinary life and into adventure. We all agreed that Seth starting school at Harting qualified as the beginning of his adventure, and Brie and I decided this gate would be the best setting to represent it.

“Keep going,” I tell him, and then when he’s about fifteen feet away, I call out, “Stop.” I lift my camera and adjust the settings one more time, making sure I have everything set perfectly. “Okay, now turn around and come back. But first take like three steps to the right, so you’ll be walking straight through the middle of the gate and breaking the snow there.”

Seth tilts his head, and he sounds completely uncomfortable as he asks, “Are you going to take a picture of me now?”

“Yeah,” I say. “But don’t worry about it. I promise to make you look good.”

Even from this distance, I can see his smirk. “What, I don’t already look good?”

“I think we both know the answer to that one.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure. So, please, do share your thoughts.” He smiles exaggeratedly, and I realize this is payback. I make him uncomfortable with a camera, he makes me uncomfortable by asking my opinion on his looks.

“You like it when people tell the truth, right?” I ask.

“The truth is great, but I can’t say I’ve ever been averse to flattery.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, well the truth is you could be a model, if you really wanted to.”

Seth smirks. “Then I’ll make sure to shake my hips accordingly.” He strikes an exaggerated modeling pose, jutting his hips to the left and holding his hands daintily by his sides. Then he struts forward a couple steps, spins around like he’s turning on a catwalk, and walks back.

A small laugh escapes me before I can stop it. Seth smiles—one that actually looks real this time, not sad or pitying. He lets the pose drop, relaxing back into his usual confident stance.

“Okay, let me correct myself,” I say. “You could be a model for a pigeon farm. Who taught you that’s how models walk?”

His cheeks flush a little. “I think it was Landon, and it definitely involved a dorm party and way too many drinks.”

“Well, remind me to thank Landon for providing the morning’s entertainment.”

His eyes widen. “You didn’t take a picture of me doing that, did you?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, hell. Erase it now!”

“I’m joking, Seth,” I say, not bothering to rein in my smile. “Relax. Your secret life as a pigeon model is still safely under wraps.”