Friday Afternoon Photography

Submitted into Contest #144 in response to: Write about a character who’s pathologically camera shy.... view prompt

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Happy Teens & Young Adult Fiction

I hastily avoid being trampled by a man with heavy eyes and what must have been an army of children trailing him, bouncing around on the balls of their feet and chewing on some unknown sticky substance.

 The streets were busy today -as they always seemed to be on sunny Friday afternoons near the University-. I absolutely dread Friday afternoons and avoid the busy market streets at all costs. The hustle and bustle of the lively city was overwhelming. It made my ears rattle and my brain spin. I like to keep to my personal space so when it feels like people are coming from all directions it’s understandable for me to begin to feel a little claustrophobic. Not to mention the eyes. My eyes for starters. I never know what to do with them. I could look straight ahead of me but that feels too forced. Like I’m forcefully trying to look natural or nonchalant. I could just look at the ground as I walk but then I feel that I look scared. Afraid of making eye contact with anyone on the street walking towards me -which I am but that’s no one else’s business-. The third option would be to make eye contact to prove that I am in fact not afraid. Although past experiences have taught me that, that is not the right option either. I currently was doing an awkward combination of the three that reminded me of why I stay home most Friday afternoons. 

I suppose I could have held off on this specific task until the streets cleared but just the thought of procrastination gave me a headache- especially when it comes to work-. So when work emailed this morning and requested that I pick up the clothes that would be used for the upcoming promotional photoshoot I left right away in hopes I could make it before the streets became packed with people like a tin of sardines. I was too late. If only I hadn’t slept in so late on my one day off then I may have gotten the email earlier and had time to avoid the crowded metropolis. If only they had emailed the night before, I would have had time to prepare. If only I could brave being looked at by other people without going crazy. Every stare seems to linger and people on telephones are whispering. Whispering about me to their friends. Their partners. Their mothers. “You’ll never guess who I saw today” or “You wouldn’t believe the absolute mess of a D list celebrity who stared me down outside the bakery”. They must have been talking about me. I could feel it. I could almost hear it. I could feel their preying stares from all directions on afternoons like these. Every stare burned into my skin and left a mark engraved in my memory only to be used to fuel my insomnia for many months to come.

As I turn the corner I almost collide with a short burly woman who was in the process of detangling an apron from around her waist. She smiles at me in apology, although I do not have time to obsess over it as the “silk stitches; tailor & dry cleaners” comes into view and I am flooded with relief. I enter the store and am comforted by the quiet empty space. A safe haven from the swarming city just outside these four walls. I take a deep breath and walk up to the counter patiently-awkwardly- awaiting someone to assist me. A woman approaches the counter. She appears to be around sixty years old wide blue skies stared back at me with intention. I might have felt the need to look at her cheek or shoes instead if it wasn’t for the black-rimmed glasses that framed them.

She smiled It was a practiced smile, one that was practiced and repeated for the dozens of customers she comes in to contact with throughout the day. “You’re here to pick up for Tina right? She called and said you’d be coming around 2:00.”

I can feel eyes on me. After a moment of contemplating the possibility of it just being my paranoia getting to me for the twentieth time today, I gaze into the reflection of the glass in front of me rather than mustering enough courage to take a look around my surroundings and possibly make eye contact with the culprit gazer. There is in fact a man looking at me. His skin was brown and had a warm glow to it. His hands were the colour of unfired clay and his hair was a flurry of storm clouds resting over an ever-moving mind, and when I say storm clouds I don’t mean the kind of storm cloud’s that flood cities and tear beautiful things to pieces. I mean the storm clouds that save wildlife from draught and carry children away to new adventures that exist only in their minds. He was nothing short of beautiful. His eyes were alluring. his smile was contagious and his camera was taking my photo.

Damnit.

Did everything have to be spoiled by my public image? It’s almost like sometimes people forget I'm a person. They think that just because they see my picture when they’re checking out at the grocery store or amidst the wide spans of their social media feed that I wouldn't mind if they took some of their own. They think I must love the sound of a camera shutter. That I surely don’t mind prying eyes, after all, I’m used to it. So used to it the possibility of camera shyness would be absurd. But I guess I’m absurd than because as I hear the click of a camera shutter I feel a wave of nausea at the thought of my face amongst the social media tabloids.

I shy away from the camera sinking into my seat. He continued to hold the camera to his face and focus the lens. Has this man ever heard of subtlety? Maybe privacy? Does that one sound familiar? As I begin to grow frustrated I turn my head to finally look at him. As I look up to his face that had been taken over by the camera lens he smiles and hits the shutter once more. The audacity. “Um, excuse me but don’t you think it’s rude to be taking my photo without asking?”

He dropped his camera from his face but the smile stayed. “No” he answered in a nonchalant tone. No? What does that mean? Is he not ashamed? 

“What do you mean no?” I ask him as I begin to grow frustrated.

“Oh, well I don’t think it’s rude but sorry I offended you, I should have asked first.” He drops his camera letting it fall limply around his neck.

I don’t usually stand up for myself. My whole life I’ve let people walk all over me from early childhood bullies to the business partners I work with. When I hesitantly agreed to e the face of my company I never wanted this kind of publicity to come with it. I just wanted to make things for the world but that seems to come at the cost of my face plastered against various highway billboards. But right now was different. Right now I was outraged at this man who had enough arrogance and ignorance to invade my privacy in a way that I shouldn’t have to be used to. For once in my life, I decided to actually stand up for myself.

 “Do you really believe that just because I’m used to this kind of thing that would make it less difficult to not be able to sit down at the dry cleaners without the whole world knowing about it?” I fumed.

He tilted his head to the side in a way that showed his confusion. “Oh no, don’t worry the whole world won’t see it. Why would they?” 

I furrowed my eyebrows partially in disapproval and partially in disbelief. “What-” I take a deep breath trying to calm myself as my heart thumps against my rib cage like an open palm against a drum “ Why are you taking my picture?”

“Well I just thought you were perfect for-” 

Perfect? He thinks I'm perfect. No, he must mean something else. 

“-A project for my photography class. The assignment was to photograph a candid shot of someone who didn’t see their beauty” 

This man doesn’t know me I think. I say that much.“That’s very sumptuous of you” 

“Was I wrong?”. Arrogant. Very arrogant yet, his smile was kind, and not judgemental. The friendliest smile I’ve seen today. 

I frowned, I didn’t admit that he was right. I couldn’t force myself to level with the man who had taken my photo without permission followed by inadvertently calleing me beautiful without a second thought. 

As my cheeks began to turn a rosy hue my embarrassment was saved by the tailor bringing forward a couple of bags for me and motioning me over. I have never been so excited to get back out on the bustling city streets. As I walk to the door I stop already feeling regretful. I turn to look at the man from the waiting room.

“goodbye.”

He smiled. This one was different. Different than the rushed apologetic smile the woman with the apron had given me. It was different than the carefully rehearsed, mildly fake smile the tailor had given me. This smile wasn’t like those, it was special. It felt genuine and open. It felt like the intimate kind of smile you save just for those special moments. Even if this was the smile that he shares with the whole world around him it still felt like it was only for me. Like he was smiling just for me. I smiled back at him and this smile was real. It was open and honest. It was genuine in the way my teeth peeked out from under my lips and my eyes crinkled in the corners. This smile was just for him. He picked up his camera from around his neck and clicked twice.

May 07, 2022 03:06

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1 comment

Jacob Gauthier
17:56 May 10, 2022

Hi Mya, congrats on submitting your first story on Reedsy! I was really able to relate to your main character as she walked through the city streets. And I liked how you described the different kind of smiles at the end of the story. I hope to see more writing from you in the future!

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