The Billionaire’s Savior

“Do you want to stick with photography?”

Robyn shrugged.

“You could go back to school.”

Robyn shook her head. “I can’t do that. It’d be humiliating.”

Chris didn’t push. “You don’t need a job; you don’t need to bring home money or anything.” Chris shushed Robyn. “But, you could still get out of the house. Maybe walk to the park and take pictures along the way.” Chris played with strands of Robyn’s hair as he spoke. “You could do that—what’s it called? Humans of New York?”

Robyn perked up a bit.

“My sister is always showing off the pictures and stories and gushing about them. You could do something like that.” Chris shrugged softly. “You could do whatever you want.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of Robyn’s head. “We could get you a new camera if you want.”

Robyn stiffened. Part of her thought yes that’s exactly what she needed—get rid of the camera and start again with something more high tech; Chris could sure as hell afford it. But another part of her felt that she’d taken more than enough from him; and given him very little in return. Chris didn’t speak and only pressed his fingertips along Robyn’s skin; he waited for an answer patiently, unhurried.

Robyn eventually shook her head. “No. I want to keep the camera. For now, at least.” Both their eyes traveled to where said camera sat.

Chris nodded, “okay.”

*****

It took a few weeks to get all the proper ducks in a row—Robyn finally converted a spare room into a darkroom, she got loads of film for her camera and ignoring the looks she got from all the kids with their digital cameras, she finally took courage in her hands, swallowed an anti anxiety pill and left the house. It also helped with the fears, fear of the strange men and dark alleys and the unknown.

For a while, Robyn stayed within the confines of the lane in which they lived. She took pictures of peeling paint and of greeting mats in front of doors; she took pictures of every inch of their house. She practiced taming her fear and she brushed up on her skills—angles, white balance, aperture, focus, all of it. Robyn relearned her camera and after a few weeks she loathed putting it down.

Robyn took pictures of Chris eating dinner, sleeping, watching TV, coming out of the shower with just a towel wrapped around his slim muscled waist. Robyn tried to snap shots while Chris was working—it had been the inventor’s idea even—but it was difficult with him so jumpy about it. She sat on their balcony outside and took pictures of the sky, people walking on the sidewalk; she even snapped some photos of a minor crash that happened in front of their building.

Eventually, she ventured out. She took pictures of everything she saw: a dog pissing on a bush, a man storming out of his brownstone while he screamed at his wife, a young kid playing hopscotch alone. The camera clicked, and clicked, and clicked.

After barely two hours, she had to pop in a new roll of film but Robyn didn’t mind. She felt alive, she felt something sparking inside her, a passion igniting. She couldn’t stop smiling even though by the time a fifth hour had passed, her face was burning from the strain. Her legs were shaking, too. Robyn hadn’t stopped to sit once, only to kneel for a better angle, only stopping to stand for better focus.

She wasn’t even particularly concerned with the quality of the photos, she just knew she needed to click, click, click.

When Robyn reached the nearby park, she finally sat. She found a bench in the center of the park and continued to photograph. She stopped for a few minutes to down a full bottle of water and a few granola bars.

After her legs no longer quaked with the stress of walking, Robyn walked laps around the park. She snapped shots of spiders dangling from branches and birds fluttering away from a tree. Eventually, she noticed that every person she passed was dressed rather well—much nicer than her jeans and t-shirt. It took her a few minutes of seeing person after person to realize where she’d wandered.

The music played softly and people were dancing. Immediately, Robyn felt embarrassed for stumbling upon a wedding. Granted, it was in a grassy offshoot of the park so it was not necessarily a private wedding, but still. Robyn was never meant to be here. Despite that she still took pictures. She captured stills of the bride and groom twirling together, of the mother and father of the bride crying silently in a corner of the marquee.

Robyn continued to take photos until she felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder. She’d never been so thankful for the camera strap; otherwise her work for the day would’ve been in pieces on the ground. startling with a yelp she whipped around to face the person attached to the hand. It was a young man, probably no older than Robyn herself, smiling sheepishly.

“Hey.”

Robyn stared back with wide, terrified eyes. In all honesty, this was the first real interaction she’d had with someone strange outside of phone calls and silent trips to the market down the street. Robyn could feel her heart beating fast, too fu*king fast. Her hands were shaking where they were folded defensively across her chest. Robyn couldn’t find the words to reply even so much as a ‘hey’ in return.

The man raised his hand peacefully. “Hey, it’s okay. I just wanted to tell you, you don’t have to hide over here. It’s not a private wedding. My brother wouldn’t mind.”

Robyn swallowed, her mouth and throat suddenly as dry as the desert. She tried to nod but couldn’t get her body to work, it wouldn’t respond to her commands. She was panicking and her vision was getting hazy.