Luck through the Lens

Beautiful. That was the first word that came to mind when I saw her. I watched from afar as she captured precious memories. A small, focused smile behind the lens of her camera, the graceful flutter of her finger tips as she snaps a pic. Even in my drunken state, a part of me sobered up when I saw her. I knew the moment she noticed me. Of course she did. Everyone did. I tried my best to straighten up, but I stumbled around the reception. All I could smell was the scent of my clothes drenched in Baijiu. And all I could see was my brother's glare aimed towards me as his bride frowned. The lively music of the DJ kept playing, but I could hear everyone freeze as soon as I walked in. It made me angry. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t pity me like that. I should have been the one to marry 1st but she- no, I won’t think of her tonight. I’ll need another bottle if I do. I stumbled across the wedding reception again, away from the glowering bride and glaring groom. I noticed the photographer trying her very best to avoid me. She seamlessly wove through the crowd, all while keeping her back towards me. As if she was aware that I was in the way of her taking the perfect picture of a smiling bride and groom, and that she needed to be the fence between us. I didn’t like that. I didn't like the fact that she wouldn't look at me. Take my picture, I thought. Her head snapped towards me, and I froze. Did I say that outloud? No, how could she hear me over the music from that far? Either she can read minds, or I’m drunker than I thought. Her smile never faltered as she gracefully turned towards me and came my way. My feet felt as if they were being held in place. Just like those corny romance movies, there was a spotlight on her, and the background faded away. I thought about counting each step she took towards me. Is that weird? She stopped walking. She stood just 2 feet away, and I could still tell that she was beautiful. She was nothing like ‘her’. “Why don’t you come over here, and I’ll snap your picture?” she smiled. Away from the bride and groom's table, dancing guests, and towards a more privately decorated corner. I chuckled. She was crafty. “Is the photographer trying to lure me into the dark corner all alone?” “If I tell you my name, will you be more willing to follow me to a dark corner?” she replied sarcastically. I like her. As I started to walk away, I didn’t miss the look of relief on the guest's face. So worried that I’ll ruin their precious wedding, and yet not a soul worried about me. Just the thought made me hot all over. Before I realized it, I was standing in a corner, clenching my fist in front of a woman who easily outshone the bride. “It’s hard to take a good picture if you’re frowning”, she said softly. I looked up. She stepped closer. Gently letting the camera rest against her chest, she started fixing my tie. I could feel the warmth of her fingertips on my chest. A simple feeling that took the heat out of my anger. She smelled like lilac and honey. A scent as gentle as her. All I could do was watch her, rooted in place. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want her to move. She slowly went from my tie to straightening up my jacket. I know she could smell that I reeked of alcohol. But her face never showed. She just kept that same calm smile. Those warm eyes dancing away as if I were just another prop in her photo. For some reason, I wanted so badly for her to see just me. I closed my eyes as her hands raked through my hair, trying her best to smooth down and style the frizz I decided to let run loose. She was so close that her breath gently fell on my neck. I was holding mines. I'm wondering if she could tell. She smiled widely, backed up, and clapped. “Much better”, she said proudly. Immediately, I felt cold with the lack of body heat. An odd feeling of disappointment settled in me. But with my personal space back, my lungs suddenly remembered how to breathe. She picked up her camera and gestured for me to get closer to the wall. I looked up, and there was a big poster that read “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Chang and Ife Kai”. It was decorated with both Ethiopian and Chinese illustrations. “Ok, are you ready?” She asked. I cleared my throat and nodded. “Yeah”, was all I could manage to get out. “Ok, three, two, one, say cheese!” She said excitedly, which was followed by a bright light. I squinted and turned away. The effects of the alcohol are already waning. And yet I'm still too sober for this. “How about we try again? And this time, how about you show us your handsome smile?” she joked playfully. I smiled, “You think I’m handsome?” She laughed, rolled her eyes, and shot another picture. She thinks I’m handsome. “Not in this picture you are”. Sure I’m not, I thought as I rolled my eyes. “But in the other one, I was?”, I playfully joked back. She dodged my question and shot a few more times. The small smile she had earlier returned. With every click, every flash, something in her lit up with excitement. Like a mother taking pictures of her newborn child. She made me feel like I was something worth capturing. I couldn’t help but smile as she jumped around in different awkward poses trying to find her best angles. She was cute, short, and, as a matter of fact, still nameless. “Excuse me, miss photographer, I believe I risked my life following a stranger into an isolated corner. And now, after the few pictures you took to distract me from your master plan. I at least deserve to know my killer's name before I die.” She laughed, a real one. Head tilted back, camera still frozen in her hands. Now I was the one wishing i could take a picture. “Now I have to lie so you can’t tell the cops if you survive” she joked. She gestured towards the empty tables in front of us. “Let’s take a look at the photos and if you’re a good boy I’ll tell you my name”. I frowned. Did she just call me a good boy? She laughed again. We sat down right next to each other. She turned towards me so I could see the screen on her camera. “My name is Viviana, but you can call me Ana.” She said as she flicked through her camera. “Viviana, that’s a beautiful name. What does it mean?” She looked at me and smiled, “it means alive”. Alive. That’s exactly how I felt with her. As if she was the very air I needed to breathe. “My name is Cheung, it means lucky. Although I don’t feel like I’m very lucky”. She chuckled. “What's so funny?”, I asked lightly. “Chang and Cheung, I guess your mother didn’t think too hard on that one huh”. I laughed, “No she didn’t”. Out of all the popular names for boys my mother had to choose that. “What makes you feel so unlucky at such a beautiful wedding Cheung”. Even as lightly as she said it, it still didn’t stop the mood from sobering up. I was too. I need another drink. But surprisingly without one, I found myself telling her anyway. “I was supposed to get married 3 months ago. This exact same place, this exact same date. This was the reception hall she picked out. The colors I pick out. Everything from the songs to the champagne. All planned for me. Yet we called the wedding off after we already bought everything. Chang was already in a committed relationship, so all he had to do was propose. Everything, down to the engagement ring, he got from me for free. And as much as I love my brother, I’m very happy for him. I can’t help the jealousy that grows in me as I imagine what my own wedding would have looked like. Right about now, I would have been sitting at that table smiling just like them. And although I’m over her, I am not over what could have been. I am left empty-handed, with an empty finger and an even emptier ring. Can you believe we already bought the tickets to our honey-moon as well?” I rambled, “my brother gets to enjoy the vacation I spent years saving for. How lucky is that?. Don’t get me wrong, I want to be happy for him. You think I wanted to be the drunk who ruined his brother's wedding? I hate being the miserable party pooper. But I can’t pull up the roots of jealousy in my heart. I can’t help but feel as if I’ve been cheated”. Silence for a while. Although it felt good to get that off my chest, I immediately regretted opening my big mouth. Here I go ruining the mood again. As I debate excusing myself or waiting for her to leave 1st. She turns the camera towards me. It’s a picture of me, half a smile, half a laugh, standing next to the wedding poster, looking happy to be there and not like the miserable drunk I feel like. “This is my favorite picture so far”, she says. Softly smiling again, “to me, you look very happy for your brother's wedding. Years will go by, and all the memories that will be left are the ones you can see. And to me, this looks like a happy one”. Tears stung my eyes. I laughed, astonished. She was amazing. “You really know how to get my good angles, huh?” She laughed as well, “It’s easy to get good pictures with such a handsome model”. “So you’re finally admitting I’m handsome?” The small compliment felt like the win I needed all night. We sat in our corner, talked about life, the good, the bad, and the in between. By the end of the night, I fully sobered up. Just in time for the cake cutting. I sat next to my brother and his bride at the table meant for the family. A smile on my face, cake in my mouth. As we ate, I realized that soon the bride and groom will start their new lives, and tonight I get to start a new chapter of mine. They looked at each other happily in nervous excitement. And while I won’t get over my feelings in just one night, along with the healing pains of jealously I also felt happy for them. I left with a picture of me smiling with the bride and groom, and on the back of the photo, the number of the most beautiful photographer I’d ever seen. Maybe I am lucky after all.