Bloom

Ginny

"No!" Anya cried as she stared down at the broken camera at her feet. Bending down to salvage the pieces, her heart dropped like a rock, sinking to the bottom of a lake. Tears ran rivers down her cheeks. She heard her parents stumble up the stairs to her room to see what's the matter, but she didn't dare tear her eyes away from her most prized possession. As they made it up, bumping into each other, they stopped in the doorway, relieved to find their baby just fine.

Luka stared, unaware of the destruction he left in his wake. He babbled through his yellow pacifier, bobbling up and down with his knees, one small grubby hand remaining on Anya's desk. The desk he just pushed the camera off of.

Knowing Anya's obsession with photography, her parents bought her the $400 camera they knew she wanted for Christmas when she was sixteen, long before Luka came around. Anya was more than devastated.

"Luka!" Anya scolded. Both her parents reprimanded her. Her mother clicked her tongue three times, walking to pick up Luka.

Anya loved Luka, but she couldn't help but think times were better before Luka, the miracle baby. Before Luka, Kyra, their mother, didn't have enormous bags weighing her eyes and her long brown was kept and braided. Now, she didn't have time to braid, even her own hair.

Before Luka, Anya's father was patient and kind. Now, he was abrasive, always blaming the baby.

"Anya," her mother started, "You shouldn't yell at your brother like that." Her mother turned to the baby, cooing and bouncing him as he slobbered her crinkled white shirt.

"What? So I'm not allowed to be upset?" her mother rolled her black eyes, before looking to her father, Darek for backup. He leaned against the doorway, catching his breath. His blonde hair was shaggy and unkept. He also had a little grey stubble growing around his chin.

"Anya, we asked you to watch him for a few minutes and this happens? And you think you're ready to move out like the rest of your friends." He stood up from the doorway, throwing his hands in the air. Her chest felt tight and her cheeks became more and more wet. His words were the salt on the camera shaped wound on her heart. Her lip quivered.

Inside, she knew he was right; She was useless. She couldn't even watch a baby for two second while her parents made dinner, but she would not take this.

Her mother yelped in surprise as Anya jumped to her feet, grabbing her purse that had her wallet and keys within. Anya pushed past her father at the doorway, jumping the stair two at a time, and then bumbling out the door, into the gravel driveway.

It was a cloudy day, not uncommon for Washington State. She marched to her car, flinging the door open and settling inside. Anya gripped the steering wheel, leaning her head at the top, her long, brown hair creating a canopy. She let out a quiet sob. At this point it wasn't just the camera, it was her father's lack of encouragement. Kyra and Darek have always tried to be supportive but when Anya announced she had gotten accepted to an Arts college nearby, they were furious.

She wasn't sure what they expected due to the fact they fueled her passion by buying her the camera in the first place. It wasn't like she was bad too. She knew about color, lenses and lighting, etc. But now she had no more camera and no more emotional outlet.

She sniffled, taking out her keys and starting the engine. Whenever photography didn't work out, driving was her second favorite activity. She was fairly new considering she stared at seventeen and only a year has passed since then. Throwing it in reverse and taking off the emergency brake, she navigated out of her driveway, out onto the suburban streets. She promised she wouldn't be out long to avoid getting lost like last time.

***

She was lost. It was now night and she continued on the unfamiliar stretch of highway. Where was she?

"I blame highway hypnosis," she grumbled. She kept herself calm but she couldn't deny the anxiety rising in her stomach. Anya followed the curve of the highway, finally seeing an exit in the distance. She changed lanes.

"Port Angeles? How did I get here?" Anya had an odd habit of talking to herself when she's nervous. "At least I'm still in Washington."As she entered the city of Port Angeles, she searched for a good place to pull over. The darkness grew, even with the yellow city lights. They gave her little comfort.

There was a small fraction Port Angeles where it was greener and there were houses than apartments. These houses were spread apart, allowing big yards. Each house was clean and manufactured except for one.

This one was a small farmhouse. The house radiated a gentle energy. It had a big yard and its windows radiated a white light. Trees of all kind lined the white fence: cherry trees maple trees, and evergreens. The grass of the yard was long and stringy with the occasional patch of dandelions dotting it. Vibrant flowers chaotically sprouted from the may flower beds in the yard. It was too dark to appreciate their color, however.

What was truly an enchanting sight was the place to pull off the road right in front of the house. Anya sighed, pulling the car to the side. Shifting into park and putting on the emergency brake, she pulled out her phone.

Scrolling through her contacts, she found her house phone. After many rings, she realized she had no signal. Sighing, she rubbed her tired, black eyes.

"I seriously doubt this would work." Before she knew it, she stood on the hood of her car, raising her phone up in the air to "catch" the signal.

"Come on. Come on. Come o-" Anya was interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

Startled, Anya slipped. She screamed as her butt hit her car, throwing her into the gravel. The mystery person let out a soft "Oof."

Anya sat, breathless as gravel stabbed into her in many different parts of her body. She took a deep breath in, raising herself from the palm of her hand. She hissed quietly as more rocks went into her palm.

"Are you alright?" Anya looked up to see a woman in her late thirties, with red frizzy hair and large glasses stare down at her with bug eyes.

"Yup. I'm fine," Anya said, jumping to her feet. She brushed off gravel embarrassed of what the stranger just witnessed. As she did so, she asked, "Do you, uh, perhaps have a phone I could use?"

The stranger snickered, "You don't need a phone you need a place to sleep and a good cuppa chamomile. Come with me."

Anya was aware of the risks, but some tea and a nap sounded too good.

"First, what's your name?"

The stranger turned around, "Ginny."