a Piece of Art

5.0 T H E P E R S O N

   Parker Wells was a name I knew fairly well. He was usually mentioned in my house.

   As the reckless guy, the insensitive, rude, without respect or care for the world guy. These were only some of the nicest adjectives my mother had for him. He never attended our parties, even though they lived next door and his mother did come usually. She got along pretty well with my mother.

   His father died the day before I saw him through my mirror. He had been just a ghost for me till then. Always mentioned but not someone I had actually ever seen. I admired him, he was everything I wanted to be as a kid, run away from my parents. I spent my adolescence thinking about him, dreaming. I never met him or even spoke to him.

   As far as I know, he left his parents house when I was ten. He lived in the city. I assume he was in college then. He came back two years later for the first time, when his father died. I don't think they had the best of relationships but it was always worse with his mother. I would know, she was my mother's best friend.

   Who he was, always intrigued me.

***

His was a common name. Could it be the same guy whose family lived next door to mine? As reckless as it sounded of me, I was intrigued. I simply wanted to meet him. Everything about him, a mystery.

Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to submit for the contest...

Steph awaited for me outsife our class, I could see her already at the door, eagerly looking around apparently searching for me.

   "Oh Lizzie!! I got the perfect idea for the contest."

We'd been talking non stop about it, we only had a week left for submissions. Steph didn't know how much this meant to me, but she still encouraged me to apply. I didn't know yet. I couldn't decide what I wanted to submit either.

   "My little sister wants to be a professional dancer and I saw her practicing with her parter by the river yesterday, I got the perfect shoot just when the sun was setting."

I didn't told her everyone would aim to use the sunset for their photos, the most popular lighting between photographers. Indeed it's a gorgeous light but I had the feeling it wasn't original enough.

   "It's perfect. It's meaningful and true. I loved it."

   "I'm glad you are happy with it! That's all that matters."

I don't know whether she could win with it or no, we both knew the competition would be tough.

   "Are you submitting?"

   "I don't know." I answered truthfully. "I have a ton of photos I'm proud of hanging in my apartment, I keep staring at them, but I can't bring myself to send any. I guess that if I can get one new that I feel like sharing, I will."

   "You should send something anyway. You are amazing. Way better than anyone else in our class." Steph had the tendency of complimenting everyone, but being super harsh with herself. She always had a sweet word for everyone but herself.

   "That's not true, " I laughed her off. "C'mon, let's get to class."

***

I got so used to having lunch with all of them, that it almost felt strange when Leah wasn't there.

"She has a shift at the café." Naomi explained. But Leah never took shifts between classes. I let it slide anyway, not wanting to pry.

   Blake sat next to me, discussing with Jackson whether they should or not watch the next Woody Allen's movie.

   "It's Woody Allen. You should watch it. Period." I still felt a little weird, commenting during their conversations, I still felt as an intruder, as an outsider. They never minded though, they told me we were friends, i was more than welcome to voice anything I thought.

   "Have you seen it yet?" Blake asked.

   "No, but I can't wait."

   "Come with us Friday night!" Jackson said exited. "Neither of them," signaling Naomi and Steph, "ever joins. But Blake and myself always have movie nights out."

   "Yeah!" Blake added. "We like to see every movie that's on display."

  I wasn't surprised because of that, Blake's major was on cinema. He wanted to write scripts, direct films.

   "You should totally come."

   Somehow I felt that Blake had been the most reluctant one to let me in their closed off group. Even though he shamelessly flirted with me during my first lunch with them, until Naomi told him to fuck off (her words not mine), he always stayed a bit away. It meant a lot though when he smiled softly and invited me to join their movie night.

   "Sure, I would love to." I had never been more honest in my life.

***

I stared at my wall of photographs. They weren't ordered chronologically, even though I perfectly knew when and where each of them was taken.

   There were some of my mother screaming, in black and white, there were some of landscapes, of my father, of my grandmother, there were ones I took as a kid, with a camera that wasn't mine.

   I couldn't just choose one, one wouldn't be enough, it would just show a part of my life, of my soul.

   An idea came to me then. I looked at the wall, at the lamp behind me, at te bed side table. I took all the photographs off the wall. I brought the lamp near the wall, I opened the gardens door, letting the soft light of the sunrise show.

   I rearranged the photos as the rays came out of the lamp. I used its light to my advantage. I ordered all the pictures just as I wanted.

   I took a few steps back and took a photo of what I've done. This was me. Not a single one of these photos. All of them made me, me.