I leave Main Street and cut down Ruby Street, where it’s tucked away, off the beaten path. At least I hope it still is. The owner, Chloe, had always joked that if it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t be in business. I didn’t think it was true, but in this town you never know. Little mom-and-pop shops like hers come and go pretty often, so I’m relieved when I see the sign still there.
The bells jingle just like they always have when I push through the door. There are no customers, and no one’s behind the counter either.
“Be right with you!” a female voice calls from the back room.
“Okay!” I say. “No hurry.”
I take a moment to glance around the tiny shop. Surprisingly, it doesn’t look much different than I remember it, with its small variety of cameras, lenses, and accessories displayed beneath the glass U-shaped countertop. The same framed shots of Chloe’s travels from around the world hang on the walls—vibrant oceanscapes, lush rain forests, stark deserts. I remember all of them. Even the same bulletin board to buy or sell used equipment, or to advertise your services, is still on the wall next to the door.
I run my eyes over the different cards and flyers, and one in particular catches my eye. It reads:
Attention Teen Photographers!
Coast Magazine wants you to submit your photo essay for publication in our annual Young Artists’ Issue!
Winners will also be featured in a mounted show at the Pelican Bay Art Festival!
This year’s theme is: Things Unseen
For a moment, I try to imagine what I might shoot for the contest, but then I see the deadline has already passed. The day after my accident, in fact. As far as things that I’ll always remember, that date is one of them. It marks the before and after for me, dividing my life into known and unknown. I wonder if it will always feel like that. Like everything is in relation to that date.
“Hi!” The voice startles me and I feel it in my ribs. I turn, slowly.
“Liv, oh my God, honey. Come here.”
I don’t have a chance to, though, because Chloe comes out from behind the counter with her arms extended and gives me a big, warm hug. Then, like she realizes it might hurt, she lets go and steps back.
“How are you doing? I’ve been thinking of you since I heard about the accident, sending good vibes. Are you healing?”
“I’m okay.” I don’t mention anything about the memory loss. I choose to focus on the physical instead. “It gets a little bit better every day,” I say. I feel myself smile. A real smile. I am genuinely happy to see her.
She crosses her arms and tilts her head. “Good,” she says. “I’m so glad.” She smiles now, and I notice the tiny crinkles at the corners of her eyes. Those are new—at least to me. Other than that, she looks remarkably the same. I think about telling her—as a compliment—but then I’d have to explain the whole memory thing, which I just don’t want to get into. I like it better this way, without her knowing.
“You look pretty today,” I say instead.
“Well—” She looks pleasantly surprised. “Thank you, sweetheart. You do too. Now, what can I do for you?” she asks. “Do you have more beautiful shots for me?”
“What do you mean?” I ask. A tiny hope rises in my chest.
“Like the ones you’ve been bringing in for the last month. You’re getting so good with mood and light. They’ve just been gorgeous.”
I want, so badly, to ask what they were. I shouldn’t have to ask about my own pictures, but now I have something to look for when I get home. This feels more right than anything else has since I’ve woken up. I’ve been here. I didn’t stop taking pictures like my mom thinks. Or even if I did for a while, I started back up again. I don’t know why she wouldn’t know that, or why I would’ve kept it a secret.
Either way, it feels like a puzzle piece that fits. It makes me even more curious to see what’s on the film. I take the canister out of my purse.
“I’m not sure if they’re gorgeous. Or what’s even on here, really. I just found this in my camera bag and want to see what’s on it.”
Chloe smiles and raises an eyebrow, and takes the film. “Ooh, a mystery roll. That’s always fun.”
“Can we do one hour?”
Chloe frowns. “Machine was down earlier this week, so I’m way behind. How about later this afternoon—more like three or four hours?”
“Oh. Um, okay,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment. “That’s fine.” I almost want to ask for it back and take it across town to Rite Aid, but I have no way of getting there, and Chloe’s so nice I don’t have the heart to ask for it back.
She hands me an envelope to fill out. “I saw your brother yesterday, and he mentioned you’d be coming back to work soon. I’ll have to put in a lunch order now that their friendliest delivery person is back.”
“Definitely do,” I say, though I have no idea what she’s talking about. I hand her the envelope with the film in it. “I’ll see you later.”
“Actually, I won’t be here. But I just hired a new girl, so she will be.”
“Wow,” I say with a smile. “Business is booming, huh?”
Chloe lifts an eyebrow. “Not exactly. But I’m taking a trip to Iceland next month, and I need someone to run the shop.”
“Ah, of course.”
“I was actually going to ask you, but then the whole accident happened, and I didn’t—I’m just glad you’re okay, sweetie. Anyway, who knows? Maybe in the future, I’ll need a second employee.” She winks. “Bye, hon.”
“Bye,” I say. My hand is on the door, but I hesitate. Something in me wants to tell her what’s going on with me, because all of a sudden I feel like I’m lying.
“Hey, Chloe?”
She looks up from the counter.
“Yeah?”
“I . . .” I shake my head. “It was just good to see you again, is all.”
THIRTEEN
I STEP OUT the door and back into the sunlight that’s so bright now it gives me a headache. When I reach into my purse for my sunglasses and realize I have none, I make my way back to Main Street to stop in one of the little tourist shops for a cheap pair and kill some time. I try on a few, and since they’re two for $10, I pick a couple of pairs that I like and pay for them. When I walk out wearing one of my new pairs of sunglasses, I feel hopeful. Even a little confident.
Summertime tourist season is in full swing, and the smells of clam chowder and fried seafood drift through the air. I lean against a railing watching as people pass by, coming and going in both directions. They all seem to have something to do, somewhere to go, people to be with and laugh with. It makes me glad I’ll be starting work in a few days. It’s better than sitting around the house. I’m not ready to go home yet, and the Fuel Dock, where Sam’s at work today, is just a few docks down, so I decide to walk over and say hi, and maybe even get a shake.