Changing the Lens

The empty box landed by the door with a thud. Amelia glanced back down at the pile of papers, calendars and stationary. She picked up the calendar that had hung on her dorm room wall and flipped through the cell pictures. She paused on the October page, her eyes catching on the last crossed off date; October 1st. It was a Tuesday and had cellular physiology lecture 10-12, mammalian physiology lab 2-3 and human physiology reading, written on it. She frowned down at the calendar, the list of classes and assignments written for the month. She hadn't even made it to reading week. She had gone to her lecture Tuesday morning, but had missed her lab that afternoon. That lecture had been the last class she attended, she hadn't been able to make it out of bed after that. Hell, she barely made it out of bed for that lecture, but her friend had texted saying she was on her way to pick her up so they could walk to the lecture together, so she went. It hadn't worked again after that, no one and nothing could get her back to a class.

She tossed the calendar back onto the floor. Her fingers grazed over the rest of the pile. An article on how pythons adapt their hearts after a big meal, that had first introduced her to physiology; her notebook from topics in cellular, molecular and organismic physiology 1; her book with all her class reading for introduction to human physiology, and an endless string of note cards from her final exams.

She had been so excited when she started last year, but by the time her first reading week came, she was struggling. She wasn't even entirely sure why. She thought it was just that she needed time to adjust, university was so different from high school after all. But, as time passed, it only got worse. She began to feel more and more stressed about getting her reading and assignments done on time, and then before she knew it exams were coming up and she had reading to do, assignments to finish and constant studying to memorise everything she needed to know to pass her exams.

The entire exam process happened in a blur of stress and anxiety and endless notes. Still, she thought all she needed was time to adapt, to get used to the new regime. She pushed herself and spent almost all her time studying.

The following semester was more of the same, and somewhere along the way she lost any enjoyment or excitement she had for what she was studying. She hoped resting throughout summer break would help her renew her excitement and interest in physiology.

She wound up spending most of the break in her room, too exhausted to do anything.

The first month of her second year she barely left her dorm other than for class, too drained to do anything. It was a feat just to get through her reading and assignments. By the end of that first month, she had nothing left to give.

Amelia kicked away the pile of school stuff, sending it skittering across the floor. She let herself fall back against the edge of her bed, crossing her arms over her stomach and pulling in her knees. She dropped her head back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. There was a tightness in her chest and stomach, in her very muscles. She squeezed her eyes shut as the stress and fear consumed her and all she wanted to do was scream.

She wasn't sure if it had been seconds or days when she finally swung herself up off the floor needing to do something, to get out of her head. She walked through the empty kitchen and living room, finding nothing to distract her. She wandered the hall to the bathroom, looking at everything around her when she spotted a door she has never been through before.

The attic floor creaked with every step she took. The sun beaming in through the window was the only source of light up there, illuminating all the dust and cobwebs. Lucky for her, it was midday and the sky was clear today, so she could see the whole attic clearly.

She wandered through the boxes, reading the labels as she went. Amelia’s old toys. Lanie’s old clothes. Peter’s yearbooks. She paused in front of a box labelled Samuel. Her grandfather passed away ten years ago. Amelia hadn't realised they had kept any of his things.

She pulled the box out and used her keys to cut it open, coughing the whole time at all the dust that flew off it and cringing when her fingers brushed a cobweb. It took her a minute to get the box open, covering her hands with the sleeves of her sweater and using her key as much as possible to get it open in order to avoid touching another cobweb.

The top of the box finally gave with a pop and she shook out her sweater sleeves after prying open the flaps.

Hands newly freed from their sleeves, Amelia started going through her grandfather's box.

She found one of his suits, his glasses, and piles and piles of photos. Photos of him,from his travels, of his family and friends. And right at the bottom of the box she found a camera.

She pulled the camera out of the box, the neck strap dangling from its sides. Images began to flood her mind, a trip to a lookout when she was eight, a spring carnival when she was six, fashion photoshoots when she was five, an older man with grey hair in beige suits with a camera dangling from his neck. She remembered every time she saw her grandfather wearing his camera. The man who never stopped until he achieved his dreams.

Her cheeks grew wet and she ran the back of her hand across them. What would he think of her if he saw her now? What would he say if he knew?

She knew what he would say. He had already said it when she had asked him about why he always carried around his camera.

“Once you find what you love, you stick with it. You work for it and you don't give up until you get it.”

A sob escaped her lips as tears ran like waterfalls down her face. She curled in on herself, hugging her legs to her chest, crying onto her knees. He would be so disappointed in her, wouldn’t he? She had failed, she had bombed, she had completely fucked it all up. This had been all she'd wanted for years. She had ruined her chances, ruined everything she had worked for. She had tried so hard, she had fought with everything she had, but it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t good enough.

It felt like hours had gone by by the time the tears lessened. Breathing hard she slowly uncurled herself and put all of her grandfather’s things back inside the box. As she lifted the camera to place it on top, she hesitated. A few more tears escaped her eyes as she stared at the camera before deciding better of it and placing the camera on her lap.

“I’m sorry” she whispered to the box as she closed its flaps, “I’m sorry I failed, grandpappy. What do I do now?”

She walked back down the steps as quickly as she could, cradling the camera in her hands. She sped walked straight into her room, practically slamming her door in her hurry to close it, and curled under her blankets on her bed. She stared at the camera a moment longer, stroking it with her thumbs, before turning to place it on her nightstand; right on top of her physiology books. She turned away from the camera, pulled her comforter over her head and began sobbing anew.

~~~

Amelia could feel the press of the wall on the back of her head as she leaned against it as though it would shape itself around her head like her mattress did her body. She stared at the off white wall across from her, the pictures of her and her family, and her and her friends hanging there.

I can’t believe I’m living back at home.

She turned her head to the left, looked at the human heart lamp and ceramic turtle sitting on the nightstand, the ribs with flowers picture on that wall and the oak tree, corner of the fence and tree swing out the bedroom window.

I failed.

Another wave of shame, sadness and anger washed over her. She swiped the physiology books off the nightstand. Catching the camera at the last second and placing it back on the nightstand where the books used to be.

What am I supposed to do now?

A knock on her bedroom door had her swinging her head to the right. Her mom poked her head into her room.

“It’s been three weeks Amelia, you can’t just keep sitting in bed doing nothing all day.”

Her eyes slid from her mother to the mirrors that made up her closet doors. She barely recognised her own reflection. She’s sprawled out on her bed, in her fluffy pjs and an oversized hoodie. Her hair is a mess and covering half her face, and though you couldn’t tell by her reflection it was obvious to her and her mother that she had barely showered in those three weeks.

“You can’t keep doing this. You need to get up, you need to get out and you need to figure out what you are going to do next. And call your cousin back, she’s been calling for you for weeks.”

She stared blankly at her mother.

I don’t want to tell the story of how I dropped out of school cause I couldn’t handle it again.

Her mother sighed sharply.

“I won’t keep supporting you like this. Either you start looking for a job, or you’re going to be living on the streets,” her mom spun around on her heels and walked out of her room. A moment later she heard the front door slam from some distant place in her mind.

Amelia leaned back into her bed and stared up at the ceiling, her head spinning. Would her mom really kick her out? Probably. She slammed her hands onto the mattress beside her and let out a frustrated scream before tears began rolling down her cheeks once more.

It was hours later when Amelia finally got out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. She shed her hoodie and pjs and turned on the shower before hopping inside. The heat of the water felt amazing as it cascaded over her and she felt the water wash away all the sadness and anger of the morning.

Feeling refreshed and clean and not wanting to wallow anymore right now, Amelia grabbed her grandfather’s camera off her nightstand, her coat off it’s hook, put on her boots and headed out the front door.

She didn’t leave her yard, but at least she was outside. She didn’t want to go anywhere or talk to anyone, so she stood on the sidewalk, camera dangling across her hip, and stared at her mother’s house. She raised the camera up to her face and lined up a shot of the house and took a picture. She studied the shot, then dropped to a knee and took a second picture of the house. She looked at her work on the small screen and smiled for the first time in months.

She turned to the left, stared at the sidewalk as a breeze blew past. Her hair flew into her face and she dropped to her stomach and placed the camera in front of her. She snapped a picture of the red, orange and yellow leaf and rain covered sidewalk as the wind lifted them off the ground.

She studied the road behind her, their street has always been pretty quiet, so she wasn’t worried when she stepped out onto the street to take a picture of it, getting her feet in the shot. The hint of a laugh escaping her.

After staring at the area in front of the house a while longer, taking a picture every few minutes, she decided to move to the backyard.

On her way there however, she paused, taking in the side of the house, and raised her grandpappy's camera to take a picture of the corner of the roof with the sky behind it.

When she finally made it to the backyard she began taking pictures of the oak tree. Of the birds sitting on it. Catching the sun between its branches, standing under it and taking a picture of the branches above her.

She spent hours outside taking photo after photo of anything and everything, including the setting sun.

That night she thought of all the possible places she could take photos tomorrow and the next days. That night, she slept with a smile on her face.