Chapter 8: Maisie

Present day: Meaning are in the 21st century and not in Angie's home, which we also called the 'old ladies home' because even though she was a carer for children of all ages, all of her friends would come over every couple of nights and never bloody leave... that is where I spent 6 months alone...without my sister. She was ancient, I swear.

So when someone asks, "Are you married?" I naturally say no and brush off any striking conversation to do with marriage or potential boyfriends. Definitely failing to now imply that I'm only lonely because my ex-boyfriend who I never even slept with because of my fears, traded me in for a better life with a blonde that lives in the city centre of where I also live. I have lived here all of my life because I couldn't afford to move out of this town.

Houston, Texas.

That's my life. I'm a short, brown-haired, brown-eyed woman in her late twenties with no relationship status, and no kids and the only thing to my name is the photography gear that I hold in my car whenever I go out because, yes, I'm a photographer and I capture everyone else's happiness and love, and the only ounce of happiness in my life that I have caught is the cake I had at my sister's wedding-the same woman's wedding-who asked me to photograph everything for her, by the way, so she didn't have to spend too much.

Classic.

Try taking a picture of your sister's wedding, being the maid of honour and also rushing to be in the photo after putting it on the stand on a timer.

It worked. Barely worked that is.

"Maisie, I have a party for a 16-year-old whose mother wants a photographer this coming Saturday at the porch swing club. Can you do it?"

Garry is the boss of this place. Captures is what the idiot named it. Probably trying to be funny, he always assumed that he was funny, and in actual fact, he's really not. However, they were hiring immediate staff a few years ago, and I desperately needed a job to pay my third of the rent for the place that me, Natalie, and Ivy live in, so I applied with my degree from the University of Houston to take on the photography role instead of admin or assistant, and I have worked here since moving back closer to my sister. Emily Gregory-White.

Our parents left both me and my sister in the foster system, and when she turned 18, she applied to have full custody of me, so I wasn't left in the system on my own for another 4 or 5 years. It didn't take long for the courts to grant her custody as she is the only family I have and the fact that she had a steady income too.

Either she had me or I would face a battle between Emily and my aunt Sybil, who lives in New York and is 67 years old. I never even met the woman, as far as I can remember, but my sister has, and every time she mentions her name, she pulls this weird-looking face. Never told me why she didn't like her; my guess is that she was creepy enough to never mention.

Emily is 4 years and 6 months older than me; we're like best friends, though, and I think it was mainly because we were left together in different homes and I hated being alone. I still do to this day, but now it doesn't affect me as it did when I was only 10 years old. And at 10 years old, you don't know if you're coming or going to different places, so we always made a pact that if we ever got separated, we would one day find each other again. How, I do not know, but we would have done. Thankfully, that never happened, and my life with Emily wasn't affected when she turned 18 and found Greg, who is now her husband and 3 years older than her.

"Maisie. Can you do it or not?" He shouts over my train of thought.

"Yes," Good god I mutter to myself. "Yes, I can do it. I have a wedding on Sunday for the bride which is from 8:30 am. The bride wants me to get the morning photos with her bridesmaids and whoever else before I find my place at the party. I lost count after the list kept growing in my emails" which is true. It was with six people, at first it was good as it was just the bride, her maid of honour, the mother of the bride, and three bridesmaids and now the list has grown from six to 23. Big jump, Grace. Well done.

"That's brides for you. I'll let the lady know you'll do it. It's from 2 p.m. until 6 p.m., and she's willing to pay well," Gary says while jabbing a number into his office phone.

"Oh yeah?" I ask more curiously for my own good.

The people who ride and do it solo might not charge as much, or even some companies don't charge as much, and we are one of those companies, which is why we get good ratings and a lot more gigs. For example, if it's booked in advance, it depends on what type of service they're after. Some only want a few family photos, group photos of their children, etc., or some clients want the full package, which is a party, or a wedding, or sometimes tourists will request that you travel with them for a day and capture their time here in Texas. The prices can vary from $200 to $1,000, which isn't too bad considering some people charge more, but this wedding on Sunday is the one I need. It costs $1350 for an all-day package and follow-around, which is bliss for me.

"With it being last minute, the mother is willing to pay $120 per hour, so it works out well in your favour, but the daughter is...well... she is demanding, is what I shall say." When he probably wanted to say something worse, he kept his semi-professional side going.

"Jeez. Send me into the trap, why don't you?" I say while laughing and gathering my equipment up to go and get some photos of the town and the people inside the city's most warm and welcomed places. My best friend, Ivy, is a journalist for the Houston Press and Houston Times, which is a big deal when you find your own work on the front of a newspaper with different captions and photos of your work every so often.

"Anyway, I'm off. Ivy wants me to work on some project capturing the life and soul of Houston Central, so see you," I say, giving him a salute as I head out of the office.

Making my way down Cole Creek Park, which is the finest of parks and spots for family picnics, I spot something catchy in my eye, which leads my legs to head towards it. It's a man sitting by an easel, painting what looks to be the blossom tree situated in the centre of the field, not too far ahead, surrounded by birds flying above and people scattered along the field. The level of detail this guy uses is phenomenal. I walk over to him to speak to him in hopes he will allow me to catch some photos of him sitting so peacefully here.

It's a beautiful day to be out and about to say it's coming towards the end of September, and fall has just begun, which means the leaves on trees will soon be falling, leaving beautiful trails behind in their wake.

"Excuse me, sir."

He looks up, probably not used to speaking to many people, but he's quick to speak back to me, and his calm voice makes me feel a lot less nervous.

"Why, hello there," he says, handing me his hand to shake but stopping mid-sentence to probably catch my name. I shake his hand and introduce myself before asking for his permission.

"Maisie. Maisie Gregory, sir," I say.

"Maisie. What can I do for you?"

"I'm a photographer at Captures; I noticed you sitting here so peacefully, and I was just kind of wondering if you would mind me getting a few shots of you doing your painting, which is beautiful by the way!" I'm trying to ease my nerves and probably sweet-talk the man now that I've asked.

"Oh, thank you, dear, and of course. Do you need me to do anything?"

So polite. I just love the elderly people in this area.

"No, I just want you to carry on with what you were doing. I had to ask for permission because some of my work has been published in the Houston Times, and I wouldn't want to invade your privacy. That was all."

"Oh, well done, you! I'll be sure to check it out when I get home; it's such a beautiful day, isn't it?" he says while lining his paint set back up and turning himself to face the open air.

I get into my position on the floor and start snapping shot after shot while trying to keep on talking.

"It sure is. Have you been out here long?" I ask.

I'm a talkative person. Don't get me wrong. I can chew someone's ear off if I get started on a conversation; my sister usually has to elbow me in the ribs to get me to shut up, but today I just don't know how to pitch a good conversation.

"This morning. I set my art supplies up at 9 o'clock in different places of the city, and I paint my day away," he says while focusing solely on what's ahead of him. His concentration is so patient, but his hands when painting are so agile and light that it doesn't even look as though he brushes the canvas. It must be very therapeutic for him.

"Oh wow. Are you an artist around here?" I ask while flipping through the photos I have taken. I've caught one when he's turned back in my direction briefly and he's smiling at me, not at the camera, but at me, and it's like his calm demeanour around such a busy place is infectious because my body is so relaxed around him, like I have known him for a while and not the last 15 minutes.

"No, dear, I'm no artist. I paint as a hobby. My wife died 5 years ago, and she always said, I spent too much time focusing on other people, and I should start living the life I wanted to live, and here I am, loving life the way I like in her honour."

"Oh, I'm so sorry about your wife. She sounded wonderful, and I'm sure she's proud of you for doing something you enjoy most. I didn't quite catch your name."

He sets his paintbrush aside while he shuffles in his seat, so he's looking directly at me.

"David. My name is David dear."

"Well, David, it has been an honour to meet you and to catch some amazing photos of your work. I caught a few photos of you today that I would like to post on my photography website if you would like to have a look."

"I would love to," he says.

As I crouch beside him, I glance up at the open field, and I notice the group of people sitting under the blossom tree that David has currently been painting. They are seated in the shadows, and I feel as though I need to snap a photo or a few for my website. Make it a mental note to head their way after.

I showed David the one photo that I looked at and instantly loved because it was a genuine smile-not a pose for the camera or a smile that he was showcasing, but a real happy smile at me.

After a while of talking, I gave him my card, which has a link to my website, a portfolio of my work on my Facebook website, and my own personal link for my portfolio. I said my goodbyes, and I headed down the hill to snap some photos of the group of teenagers chilling around.

All while taking photos of everyone else here on the way.

"Hi guys, my name is Maisie, and I'm a photographer downtown. Today's a lovely day to be out, and I figured that I might snap a few shots of everywhere around us. I would love to get a few snaps of you guys just doing whatever you were doing for my online portfolio and Facebook web page." I say while scanning the people on the floor, they're a bit of a mix, with some wearing casual clothing with Converse shoes and others wearing rock tops, tights, skirts, or ripped jeans with big boots, and it's a perfect combination. It doesn't show that they are all the same; following a certain trend shows that they each have their own individual personality that they like, not what everyone else likes.

"Hello," one of the guys says while offering me his hand to shake. "I'm Shane. And I'm good with it," he says, followed by the rest of them introducing themselves and allowing me to do it.

After taking a few photos and giving him my card for the links, I decide it's enough photos for today and head back home to get these loaded onto my website. Days like today where I'm able to go off and capture moments in Houston are just amazing. It's busy, but it's a good busy, which means I get plenty of photos to upload, and I also get to see the lives and busyness of everyone around me.

I don't even check my phone on days like today, so when I did tonight, I had numerous missed calls from Emily and Ivy.

Before I even do anything silly like phone Emily and sit there for half an hour listening to how shit her boss is or how she snapped another nail, I need to eat and grab a cup of tea, and then I'll call her back.

It's coming up to 5 p.m., and it's already dark outside. The weatherman said we're due for some rain tonight, and by some, they mean 'total downpour and wellies kind of day tomorrow' which is fine with me as I'm stuck in the office until Saturday now, which is literally the day after tomorrow.

After a while, I call my sister back and brace myself for the conversation about how shit her day was.

"Do you ever answer your phone?" is what I hear as soon as she picks up my call. Not even a 'Hello'. And the answer to that is no. No, I do not.

"Did I answer your call the first three times you rang?" I ask sarcastically.

"No"

"Then no. It looks like I do not answer my phone. But anyway, what do I owe for the pleasure of this phone call Emmy?"

"Nothing spectacular. I just wanted to have a chat. Try talking to a male about your day," she mentions with a dramatic sigh. But I'm like a male... I don't like listening to her drama with the 'Girlfriends' as she calls them, and I certainly don't have time to be listening to her work drama. She works in an office as a marketer for M.K. Incorporations, which is a franchise that started in Houston 7 years ago and has gradually had 44 more locations around America and Europe.

"Are you going to tell me why your day has been shit?" I ask so I can get off the phone and check these photos and comments out from my last upload.

"Well, that's one hell of a good assumption you made there. But no, it's not why I called."

"Because we only ever talk about how your boss is a shit boss. So why have you called?" I ask while flipping my laptop onto my website, prepared to upload and write the inscriptions to today's photos.

"This dinner thing is Saturday night; are you coming?"

"What time does it start?" I ask, hoping it's not overlapping with my work. Of course, it probably would because everyone is awkward like that, so I'd be rushing and not even changing from my regular jeans and T-shirt.

"6:30 is when we are meeting everyone there," she says.

"I have work, but I'll try. I'll say maybe for now, but I can't guarantee I'll be on time," I say while finishing my upload of the photos today. "Anyway, Em, I have to go. I've got some work to do. Garry has been nagging me to transfer some photos over to my website so he can send them to Ivy."

"Okay. Well, I will see you on Saturday, okay? Be safe, and I love you, okay?"

"I love you too. Bye," I say while looking at my phone to hang up and then chucking it aside.