Spur of the Moment

Snap! 

Yes. I got it. I look beyond my camera lens, lifting my head from the set up black tripod stand and look out at the view of the Greek, cerulean blue ocean, now darkening into a strong navy tinged with gold as the sun sets over the horizon. Gorgeous is the only way to describe the view. Breathtaking is the only way to caption the photo I took. Awestruck is the only way to describe the feeling of it all. 

I feel every sense in my body heighten with that euphoric high after I snap the picture. It only takes a moment. Only a split second for it to infect me. But it also only takes a sole second for that feeling to flatten and deflate like a sad, untied balloon. 

I look in front of my camera only to lay my eyes on a very distraught looking intruder. Who, now that I notice it, was standing right in front of the sun. Right in front of my perfect shot. 

“Oh Gosh! I am so incredibly sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Was I in your shot?” The man in front of me is tall, skinny, and pale. With tousled brown hair ruffled by the evening breeze. His face is frozen in horror as his eyes set on the protruding lens of my black camera. I want to believe he’s actually apologetic. I want to believe he actually cares about how important this was for me. How this was my only shot. My only chance to get the timing right, the lighting perfect. 

I want to tell him Oh no, you’re fine. Or if you were, it's just a photo. 

But the horrifying truth that strikes me to the bone is that he’s not fine and it’s most definitely not just a photo. Because what I have is not qualifying for a win in the competition I entered. 

I look back at the digital gallery in the side panel of my camera and flip to the most recent pictures taken to confirm that he was indeed standing smack dab in the middle of my shot, blocking the sunset with his body, which is nothing but a blurry haze in the middle of the serene backdrop. 

“Uh,” I start, coming back up and ripping my eyes away from the camera, feeling the energy of fresh anger heighten all my senses until they’re overloaded with rage. Teeming with it. Part of me wants to yell at him, but sometimes you have to be nice, even when the person you’re addressing is rude. “Yeah.” I manage through clenched teeth. “You were.” – I chuckle awkwardly – “In my, ah, shot. No biggie. I can just…take it again tomorrow.” 

My tone only adds to his frenetic state and he begins apologizing relentlessly. But I can’t bring myself to listen, or to forgive him, because sometimes it’s hard to admit you’re okay, because not only are you lying to the person, you’re lying to yourself to try and make the situation feel better when said situation is just as twisted as your feelings.

I want to let it out. But here, I cannot. 

I think he’s a tourist, which of course adds to my frustration, because can he not see where he is going? Can he not be so narrow minded as to not notice the huge, looming tree trunk of a tripod that is my set-up? Can he not…

Is that…a camera case in his arms? 

“This must be so aggravating for you. You had such gorgeous scenery and I stepped in and ruined it. God, I’m so sorry. I understand how you feel, it’s happened to me too, and I hate that people don’t see where they’re going. I’m sorry I was that person.” I open my ears to his ranting and someway somehow the anger inside me ebbs away a little, softening into something like empathy, blooming inside my heart until I can feel this man’s distress as if it was my own. I can feel how the white-hot feeling that was trapped in my chest dissolves because he…gets it. 

He gets what he did, he gets how it feels. 

He’s like me. A photographer in hopes of taking in the scenery of Santorini, but just so happened to wander into a shot on accident. At least now I can believe it truly was a silly accident.

“It’s okay,” I find myself saying. Somewhat genuinely this time because a small part of me is still a tiny lot enraged by the sudden photobombing. “I get it. You’re a…photographer too?” 

He smiles meekly and holds up the case of his camera. The other in his hand is probably for his tripod. “Yeah. Here for a contest. I was told Santorini had the best sunsets, and I was hoping to catch one, and clearly you as well, but all you caught is silly old me waltzing right into your shot.” 

That surprises a laugh out of me and I step out from behind my camera and offer my hand to him, which he struggles to take because both his hands are full. Sure, I’m still a teeny bit annoyed by his clumsiness but the photography career is competitive. And as much as I adopt that same spirit, I also like to support my fellow photographers, since it’s so hard to make it in this line of work. He was trying to catch a scene like me, only he ended up being the scene. 

He sets his tripod case down and extends his right arm to me after a second of rearranging his things. 

“Elijah,” he says with a warm smile. 

I return it. “Charlotte.” 

I don’t know how long we’ve been here because as I look around I notice the darkness begins to envelop us and the other photographers around us begin to scatter. Casing up their equipment and leaving the little cliff above the sea deserted. Maybe it’s not that late, a sunset’s light doesn’t linger for very long once the base of the golden globe kisses the line of the horizon.

“Guess I missed it, huh?” Elijah mumbles, glancing around as the last of the people disappear. “Have you been planning this for a long time?” 

I feel a fresh wave of irritation wash over me. Weeks actually. Took forever to get the timing just right. But I don’t tell him that. Instead I supply him with a simple, “You could say that.” 

He shakes his head again. “I really am sorry. I was in such a hurry to try and set up to catch the photo in time.” 

“You can’t rush the scenery.” I say softly, taking a calming breath to release all the tension in my body. I look out to the quickly darkening sky. “It happens when it happens. That’s the beauty of the shot. It’s unique I guess because–” 

“–no one took what you took. Your shot will always be different from everyone else’s.” He finishes for me and I glance over at him, impressed and surprised that that’s how he feels about this. That he feels how I do. 

“That’s what got me into this career. The spontaneity of the shot. The feeling as if you’re caught in this fantasy world and the picture captured the magic of it all. It’s insane, really.” 

Suddenly I can feel the last of my irritation begin to dissipate. I like that this man gets what it’s like. I like that he at least understood what was at stake for me, because he’s experienced it first hand. Now I can actually feel myself becoming keen on helping him with his own sunset shot. The only matter left at hand is whether or not he’s a good photographer. 

“What brings you to photograph Santorini?” I ask as I begin to destruct the small Eiffel Tower-like set-up I built. 

“A competition. It’s nature themed, and most people vie for rainforests and greenery but I think sunsets are the most enchanting. Ethereal. I won last year, I’m hoping I can do it again.” 

I feel myself smile brighter, illuminating the darkness in a non-literal way that makes me feel a surge of joy. Like him, I’d always preferred sunsets as well. There was something so entrancing about the golden light reflecting off the water and how the camera picked up that hue, making it seem as if the sun itself could spill gold coins. We had many common interests, and it was enough to overlook the intrusion from earlier. 

 “I’d love to help you with your shot. I have the timing just right, and I think we’re in different competitions, so, I don’t think rivalry is something to fret over.” I offer, letting the words come out before I have a chance to second guess them. 

I can see his smile, even in the dark. “I’d appreciate that.” 

I sling the strap of my tripod case over my shoulder. “Meet me here tomorrow, at six.” 

He gives me a nod, and I head off, putting my equipment into the back of my car before driving away to the hotel nearby. 

In my room, nestled against the fluffy white pillows, I take out my camera and look through the gallery until I find the one of Elijah in the sunset. The longer I stare at it, the more I can begin to notice the beauty of it. The spontaneity, like he’d said. How I didn’t expect him to appear. But really, you can never expect anything. Not in this career, not in life, and the longer I stare at it, the more I can begin to see myself liking this one as a new favorite. 

***

The next day, Elijah snaps his shot just at the right time, taking the sunset at its peak time. Where the lights refract off it in the most illuminating way, as the sun’s rays angle just so, making it seem as if the ocean caught fire in its ethereal, golden glow. 

It’s beautiful. 

I don’t doubt at all that he’ll win his contest. And as he straightens from his position and looks over at me, he frowns, sensing that I had not, in fact, taken the picture with him. 

“Why didn’t you snap your shot? It was such a perfect moment, you missed it.” 

I trace my fingers along the edge of the black material of my set-up camera. 

“The deadline for my competition was last night.” I reveal softly, and pick up my camera, flipping open the screen. “At first I was annoyed. I didn’t have a good enough photo. Nothing captured the essence of what photography really is. Until you came along and photobombed a good picture and made it a masterpiece.” 

I flip to the picture of him in the middle of the sunset. Only now do I realize that the sunset lighting I had calculated wasn’t the perfect timing. Him walking into the picture at the time he did was perfect timing. 

In the picture, his body replaces the sun, making it seem as though he has a halo of gold around his body, staining the buildings of Santorini below in splotches of yellow. It’s spontaneous, the way photography should be. 

“You submitted…that?” He questions, looking confused and mildly shocked. 

“You said yesterday photography was all about spontaneity. This was that. This captured that idea so perfectly and I thought it brought it all together. I submitted that because it was the best shot I’d taken this whole trip.” 

He gives me a heartfelt smile and the next thing I know his arms are wrapped around me. “I’m glad you noticed the beauty of it, however concealed it may be.” 

I hesitate for a split second before giving in and embracing him back with a wide grin. “Thanks. But for the record, the beauty wasn’t that difficult to notice”