Break Through by Amber Garza

appeared in the doorway, her forehead a mess of squiggly lines. “Why is Carter leaving without you?”
    I glanced up at the gravel driveway, at the dust Carter’s tires were kicking up. It blew and swirled in the sky like clouds of smoke.
    Shrugging, I turned around. “Changed my mind.”
    Mom nodded, understanding in her eyes. That was the thing about Mom and Dad. They may have gotten on my nerves at times, but I knew they understood me in a way no one else ever would. Our shared pain had bonded us, woven the three of us together in an unbreakable way.
     
    I didn’t expect him to come back. Not ever. I assumed my mental breakdown in the driveway had scared him off. So when he showed up just a few hours after he had left, I was shocked. I hovered in the doorway of my home like a butterfly hovers a flower. He was definitely like a flower – bright, colorful and gorgeous. Only I didn’t feel like a butterfly. No, I felt more like a caterpillar, all clunky, slimy and awkward.
    “What are you doing here?” I leaned against the doorframe, the cold from the air conditioning at my back, the warmth of the sun on my face.
    “I brought you pictures.” He patted the bag he held in his hand. “Can I come in?”
    My heart skipped a beat, and I moved away from the doorway to allow him entry. “Pictures of me?” I asked as he stepped past me.
    “You’ll see.”
    I swiftly closed the door and ushered him into the family room. Anticipation filled me as we both sat down on the couch. Mom passed by, looking in on us curiously. A part of me wanted to motion her over, invite her in to look at the pictures. But a larger part wanted to see the pictures for myself first. I never thought I’d be excited to see photographs of myself, but I wanted to see how Carter saw me. Also, it was nice to be alone with him. I may have been scared to go with him this morning, but here in my house I felt safe. I certainly didn’t need Mom to chaperone us.
    Carter set his bag on the floor and then reached inside. He pulled out a stack of pictures and then spread them out over the coffee table. I gasped as my gaze scoured over the bright, glossy pictures. Leaning forward, I plucked one up and held it between my fingers.
    “An azalea.” I traced the petals with my fingertips. “But it’s dying.” My eyes met his. “Yours?”
    He nodded. “I figured I could bring my flowers to you. Not physically, but in a form that makes sense to me.” Glancing down at the pictures , his lips tugged at the edges. “Flowers are your thing. Photography is mine.”
    I stilled, realizing that these pictures were more than what they originally seemed. These were a gift. Carter was sharing a part of himself with me. I swallowed hard, staring at the images - the flowers Carter had captured so beautifully and intricately. Silence surrounded us as I formulated the right words to respond with. Finally I turned to him.
    “It’s like they have a soul. You made them come to life.”
    It’s clear that my answer pleased him with the grin he flashed me. “Wait until you see the pictures of you.” He leaned close, reaching his hand up. I inhaled sharply as his fingers lit on my chin. His skin was smooth, his touch was tender. “I know you think he stole your light, but trust me, he didn’t. It’s there in your eyes. Sometimes you hide it, but it’s there when you’re vulnerable. In the brief moments when you let your guard down.”
    Moisture pricked at my eyes. How had he read me so well in such a short period of time? His hand dropped, his fingers abandoning my face. I sat back, exhaling.
    Carter cleared his throat. “So, is there any hope for them?”
    I bit my lip and nodded. “They’re not as bad as you said.”
    “Really? What about this one?” He scooped up one of the photographs and thrust it in my direction.
    A tiny laugh bubbled from my throat. “Okay, you got me. That one is pretty sad. I’m not even sure what kind of plant it was. But I don’t