Captured Moment

“Kiss your family goodbye and run away with me” Sibéal whispers the words as he reads them on the page.

Even if she hadn’t approached at precisely that moment, Hadrian likes to believe he would have recognized the spindly lettering of the wild girl who had stolen his heart.

He thought he had recognized the notebook too, though.

When he pulled it from his bag, he had expected it to be his notebook, small and black, thick with images from his nomadic life. Two photos from every place he had been, carefully composed and edited before he hid them between the pages. His compact scrapbook of sorts.

This notebook is new, spine unbroken, pages un-warped from glue, and the weight of the photos.

“It’s for our adventures.” Her voice is soft and hopeful.

The girl’s freckles dance against her fair cheeks as if he needed them to make him love her more.

Hadrian reaches towards the ginger strands of hair framing her face. She isn’t supposed to be here. He told her his uncle was visiting during the sabbath. He needs to be with his family, and yet, here they are sitting on the rocks, staring out at the Mediterranean.

“Running away is not an option.”

“Why not? With me, there are no rules, no secrets.”

Hadrian laughs. None of that bothered him before her. Consciously, at least.

He knows the importance of it all. The protection anonymity provides his parents and the twins.

“I’d still be cursed.”

“We'd be free. What's a little curse when you have the world at your fingertips?”

“I’ve seen the world.” He reminds her, gesturing towards the ancient port city behind him.

“But the world hasn’t seen you.” She pulls him to his feet. “Come on, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Hadrian had been living in Israel for half a year before Sibèal arrived on her birthright.

He’s been in every art gallery they scooter past, and he doubts there is anything surprising she could show him here.

Still, when Sibèal stops in front of the gallery they met in only two months ago, Hadrian begins to sweat.

Sibèal is known for her dramatics. She is a sing-in-public, cancel-her-home-bound-flight-in-favor-of-love, threaten-to-join-the-Israeli-army-when-contradicted type of girl.

Hadrian cannot even begin to imagine what’s through these doors.

The gallery is closed, but Sibèal has a key.

She asks him to close his eyes.

He trusts her to safely lead him anywhere.

The gallery is small, only two rooms, but with his eyes closed their path through it feels long and winding. Eventually, Sibèal stops and spins him around.

“Open your eyes,” she stands behind him, resting her chin on his shoulder as if trying to see it for the first time, too.

Hadrian’s voice fails him. An entire wall is dedicated to his work. He sees his favorite images of Croatia, India, Hong Kong, and Turkey blown up for display. His name is secured to the wall next to each piece.

Dread fills his entire being.

This can’t be happening. People can’t know Hadrian Morgan. They can’t know where he is, because it's only one leap from him to his parents, his siblings, his grandparents, and his uncle. Their whole community.

Sibèal knows all of this, he told her everything.

Sibèal shakes him from his panic.

“Turn around.” She pulls out her phone, “let’s get a picture for our little notebook.”

“Why did you do this?” Hadrian asks after the moment’s been captured.

“I wanted to show you your worth. Your work is good. These have been up all week and people are interested. They’re buying.”

Hadrian’s eyes float on a loop from piece to piece.

“Hadrian, you don’t have to live with your parents’ fear. Be independent. Be with me.”

“We’re young. Can we survive on our own?”

“I said your work was selling…”

“How much did you make?”

“You made $20,000. That's enough to start a new life. Yes, we are young, but that’s exactly why we can do this. We don’t need luxury. Let’s travel, see the places you haven’t seen yet or the ones you want to show me. We’ll sell your work to keep us going. We can even stay with my family when we need to.”

“You want me to abandon my family for yours and $20,000?”

“I’m just saying all of their problems don’t have to be your burden anymore.”

Hadrian wonders if his family’s safety can be considered a burden. He can’t blame them for their situation. Their curse is generations old. His parents had done their best. He didn’t have any formal complaints about the way he was raised. He never needed a stable home. Not when every few months brought new landscapes to fuel his artistic passions. He didn’t hurt for friendship. His family got along well, and he liked meeting new people even if he eventually had to leave them behind.

The one thing that truly bothered him was not knowing if his work was good. His life was already so full of lies. He wasn’t sure if he was really an artist, or if it was just another lie his parents told to keep him happy.

Now, here’s Sibèal giving him something his family never could. Proof.

Then he realizes, in this decision, they don’t matter. He’s not selling them out. Nothing has to happen to them if he leaves. It might even be easier on them.

Sibèal is making the life he wants for himself attainable. She just took the steps he lacked the guts to take.

He bursts into relieved laughter; its echo makes him jump. He laughs again, softer this time, grabbing the girl to swing her around in a dance fit for his hero.

Finally, he pulls her into a long embrace.

“I love you;” he whispers into her hair.

“You give your love away too easily.” She doesn’t look up to meet his gaze.

“Is that a bad thing?” he muses, she’s told him this before and each time her response has been different.

“Not always. It’s just that sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“Today, you do. Thank you for this.”

She pulls away, spinning as if it is a part of their dance. Her lips curl into a smile, her moment of doubt gone. “Where do you want to take me first?”