Unanswered

Chapter Two

A week has gone by and I haven’t progressed with my research. Every morning until dusk, I would head out and take photographs of people. Rebels, drug addicts, businessmen, nerds, flirts, emos, weirdos, high officials, you name it. I’ve got an image of each and every one. For me, any research is empty without having my hand snap away pictures.

          I’d taken a liking on photography when my dad had given me my very first camera the time I turned 11. I would take pictures of my mom, my dad, my brother, my friends and everything else around me. And then the time of pure grief befell my family. Just two days before we bid farewell to a beloved one, he bought my dream camera for me. It was what I’ve always wanted. Professional photographers have it and I just have to have one as well. Since my dad started my photography frenzy, he felt obliged and delighted to have created a passion in his daughter, and so he supported me.

          I wanted to make him proud. I joined the journalism. I was their best photojournalist. Then the day came when my mom called. The guidance counselor took me to her office and handed me the school phone. Sobbing. All I heard at first was loud sobbing. After a few moments, my mom took a shaky breath. She delivered news that should’ve made me lose consciousness. But I didn’t. I was there, still. Not moving. My eyes focused forward. The phone dropped from my clammy hands and then the counselor had to hug me to stop me from screaming and thrashing.

          It was when I got to the home that I heard the reason of my father’s death. My brother, Caleb, had been the one to tell me. Dad was walking home one night since the bus stop was a short way from our home. The street lacked lights and he heard yelling in a secluded alley. There was a man and a woman, fighting. The man held a gun. The woman’s stomach was bulged and she was obviously pregnant. Dad butted in to help; he wouldn’t let anyone die on his watch. He battled the man and shouted for the woman to run away and she did. The man acted out in pure fury and pulled the trigger.

          Dad died for a stranger. Two, if you count the innocent child. The man who killed him was arrested but it didn’t feel enough. I don’t want him to die as well, to avenge my father’s death. I wanted him to regret it. And he never did.

          It took us months to recover and we did, in the end. We all knew from our hearts that dad would want us to be happy, with or without him.

          I checked my watch. 7 am. Two hours earlier than usual. I grabbed my netbook and shoved it in my bag along with my camera. I had arranged a breakfast at Starbucks with my friend Jason, and he had also agreed to help me with my work.

          The jeepney ride was a bit slow and it took me twenty minutes to get where I needed to be. Additional five minutes for the long walk to the café.

          Jason was already seated on a table beside the window; my favorite place to sit on. He placed down his coffee mug when I sat opposite of him. “G’morning, Arabella. A bit late, are we?”

          I smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, traffic. In the morning. I know, I’m confused too, really.”

         He nodded once, “Yeah, pretty tight on the roads today. I’ll get you coffee and you just work on whatever you’re working on. What do you want to drink?”

          As Jason ordered our breakfast, I got out my netbook and set it on the spacious table. My desktop was half full with different folders, all for my research project. I haven’t been in this kind of obsession since the time I collect bookmarks. And no, my bookmark addiction did not recede.

          I was so indulged with scouring through my photos that I jumped when Jason spoke, “I got you chicken salad as well, your favorite. So –“ he registered my startled face. “So sorry, didn’t mean to surprise you.”

          “No, no, it’s fine.” I gave him a smile and plunged a fork on my salad.

          “So,” he started. “What do we do for today?”

         “We,” I smiled again, widely this time, “are going to a frat party.”