The next week his picture was chosen to be displayed in the society’s studio. Throughout the semester, that society had been his retreat. A place to express himself. He had learned the true meanings of shutter speed and what macro photography was and much more. He truly loved it and it showed in his work.
As he lay there in his hospital bed it dawned on him that loving photography really made a lot of sense. He loved to create memories. Memories are just moments captured and framed by the mind for a purpose. A photograph is really just a paused moment. Something had happened right before and right after, but that moment will forever be immortalized in that picture. It meant enough to the person taking it that they chose to capture it forever. It made perfect sense that he loved photography.
But he didn’t wish to capture this moment, because he had no intention to remember it. He wished for morning but the only thing that would grant that wish, sleep. eluded him. Instead he tried a technique Dante had taught him. He closed his eyes again and listened to the clock on the wall.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
It was 7:00am and Dante was wide awake. He had had a sleepless night. But his body must have wanted him up at 6:40am badly, because he woke up coughing and spluttering. By chance it was just in time for sunrise which he took in from the comfort and warmth of his bed: the red, yellow and orange coalescing to form a breathtaking pink color that made him sit up in his bed. The sun was low on the horizon but large like something he would expect to see on the African Plains.
By 7:00am he was showered and changed. He had thrown on some dark blue swimming shorts and a black V-neck T-shirt with a black and white graphic of the Eiffel Tower on the front. He loved Paris. It was his favorite city in the world. In general Dante took a while over his appearance. He combed his painfully straight hair to one side. He liked to keep the sides short but left it longer on top. He shaved every other day even though his facial hair grew through in patches, unlike Asmir who could grow a fairly substantial beard in just a few days. He had thick eyebrows which got him compliments but were a nightmare to deal with, like two caterpillars that lived above his eyes with minds of their own. He was proud of his teeth as it had taken him three years of braces and two more years of wearing a retainer to get them the way they were. He wasn’t entirely unhappy with his appearance. Although, after the last few weeks, he wasn’t exactly looking his best. He was a few pounds heavier than he wished to be. A few months previously he had been in the best shape of his life, athletically and psychologically. At the moment, not so much.
He packed up all his things and left the room looking presentable. He rolled his suitcase along the corridor as quietly as possible but one wheel refused to co-operate and squeaked all the way back down the blood-red corridor. No noise came from any of the rooms. He was sure no one was awake. There was no way in hell the bus would leave at 8:00am. It was the first day of the tour. It would be a miracle if everyone was up and out by 9:00am. But he was and he liked his privacy in the mornings. He wasn’t exactly a morning person. But he liked people who were because they could energize him and get him into a good frame of mind for the day. The receptionist, Fiona, was one of these people.
“Good morning Mr. Darion, how did you sleep?”
Dante gave her a tired smile and replied, “Mr. Darion? I am a couple of years away from that. But I slept very well, thank you. How are you this morning?”
“Excellent,” she beamed. “Did you see the wonderful sunrise?”
“I’ve never seen colors like that. It’s like something you see on a postcard.”
She chuckled. “Too true. Are you going to see the caves today?”
“Yeah, but I am going to do the black water rafting. Both have glowworms in so I figured that I may as well try that.”
She tilted her head to one side and gave Dante a once-over. “Most people don’t know that when they come here. You have family from around here?”
“No, I just like to know the whole story, so I research a place first. You can get more out of a place if you know its secrets.”
“Very true. So what do you think about your fellow passengers?”
“I don’t yet. I haven’t even spoken to everybody yet. But most seem nice. Here to drink a lot, I think.”
She straightened her head. “And you’re not?”
“Probably. But not just that. This trip is about a lot of things but being hungover is not one. What is the point in flying halfway round the world to do the same thing you could do at your local bar?”
“True, but here you can do it with a view.”
They both laughed.
It turned out Fiona was the daughter of the hostel’s owner. They stood and talked for a little while longer. She had been on the same tour and knew all of the best things to do. She told him that the Maori night in Rotorua was a once in a lifetime experience and urged him to go on the glacier tour in Franz-Joseph. She also said that Queenstown was the greatest city in the world, but he took her words with a pinch of salt because she also liked Auckland and he was not a fan. After a few more minutes she told him that Asmir had booked them breakfast and walked him to the table in person. As expected, no one else was there at this time, but he was beginning to hear rumblings from inside rooms and the creaking of doors. The reception desk was visible from the table so he invited Fiona to sit and continue their conversation. He found her interesting and well educated on matters involving New Zealand or Australia but shockingly ignorant about any current international issues. After a few minutes the phone started to ring and she excused herself.
He sat there eating his pancakes and bacon. Not his usual diet but he needed to pack himself full of calories for what Fiona had described as “a pretty tough day”. In the next thirty minutes people began to filter out of their rooms. Those who hadn’t booked breakfast were either in the kitchen next to the reception making some or out on the front lawn eating something they had already picked up. By 8:00am only half the bus were out of their rooms. This led to Ben charging angrily down the corridors shouting through the loudspeaker for everybody to get up. But that was only after uttering an obscene amount of cuss words, some of which Dante was sure he had made up on the spot. But by 8:30am everyone was on the bus. Not all were ready, some barely looked human, but at least they were on and the day could begin.
“What’s your deal?” avoice asked from the seat in front.
“Excuse me?” Dante said.
Annie popped up and knelt on the seat. She kept snatching a look towards Ben who would tell her to sit down if he saw.
“Oh, hey,” Dante said, realizing that his tone had been a little confrontational.
“What’s your deal?” she asked again.
“I didn’t even know people outside the USA asked questions like that,” Dante smirked.
“You know what I mean.”
He did. “An ambitious Uni student who’s had a pretty crappy couple of months. That just about sums me up right now. Ask me again at the end of this trip.”
“I will,” she said, sneaking another look at Ben.
“What’s your story?” Dante fired back.
This made her visibly uncomfortable but Dante pretended he didn’t see. She was about to reply to his question when Ben