Page 79 of The Very First Night

Butter sizzles and pops in the pan on the stove, filling the air with a rich aroma. We both turn our heads toward the steak, worried that it might burn.

“Shoot. Can you baste that steak for me? I don’t want it to burn, but it should be ready soon,” she requests, handing me a spoon.

I carefully drizzle hot butter over the meat, making sure to cover every inch of its surface. When the steak is done cooking and resting, I begin slicing it into thin pieces to be added to the salad my mom is expertly preparing in a huge wooden bowl. The salad could easily feed at least six people, even though it’s just the two of us. However, we’ve both proven to be bottomless pits when it comes to salad.

“Do you want to eat in front of the TV?” my mom asks.

“Sure,” I say with a smile.

She grabs the plates and forks as I grab the salad and our respective bottles of dressing because we’ve never been able to agree on one we both like.

“What would you like to watch?” She begins flipping through the cable channels.

“It doesn’t matter,” I reply, shoveling salad onto my plate and drenching it in dressing.

She continues searching through the television guide for a minute or two before settling on one of those obscure channels that absolutely no one has heard of that happens to be airing old episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

When we’ve both settled into the couch with our salads in our laps, she asks, “So, how is school?”

I shrug. “It’s been great, actually. My classes have been good so far.” We’re only a little over a month into the semester, so it’s not like that is untrue, but my classes are far from what has been on my mind since I returned to school.

“And how is Tanner?”

A lump lodges in my throat at her question, which I wasn’t expecting her to ask. I fight the urge to grill her on what would possibly motivate her to ask such a question. “Why?”

She furrows her brow, the corners of her mouth turning down in a look of confusion. It’s almost comical, except for the fact that I can’t shake the feeling that she knows something has shifted between Tanner and me. “Because other than Jenna, he is the only friend of yours that I’ve met from off at school.”

Oh. That makes significantly more sense than the fear that was brewing—the fear that I somehow have the words “I had sex with Tanner Adler” written across my forehead in permanent marker.

It’s been weeks since that happened, yet somehow things have been entirely normal between us. Almost as if we never had sex at all—and I don’t know why, but it bugs me beyond reason. I would have expected at least some level of weirdness, some indicator that it had any sort of meaning.

I guess normalcy is the best-case scenario, even if it doesn’t feel that way.

“He’s really good!” I say enthusiastically before shoving a bite of food into my mouth, trying to forcefully will the conversation away from the friend who has recently become far too intimately acquainted with my lady parts.

However, my mother’s confusion only morphs into concern. “Is everything all right? Did you ever go talk to the campus health center about therapists?”

The idea of having to recount everything to yet another stranger so they can psychoanalyze me isn’t even remotely appealing. “No—I haven’t needed to.”

“Have you checked with Janet’s office to see if she is able to do telehealth appointments? Maybe you could just keep seeing her while at school.” My mom rests her hand on my knee. “I understand that you’re doing fine right now, but it doesn’t hurt to do everything in your power to make sure that you stay that way.”

I can hear the words she is not saying, and I cringe at the memory. I’m not the only one who struggled with my breakup last spring. My mom missed out on a lot of work because she was too scared to leave me alone.

“I’ll call Janet’s office.”

This appears to appease her worries as her pinched brow disappears and a smile sets in. “Good.”

We both shift toward the television and begin watching the old show my mom has loved since I was little. I don’t totally get it, but even I can admit…Spike is hot.

I affix my old zoom lens to the front of my camera in preparation for the posed photos. While I’m still figuring out my process, I have decided that the zoom lens is the only one appropriate for the ceremony. When I can control my distance from the subject a bit more, a fixed focal-length lens with a wide aperture is always better when shooting posed shots.

At least that’s what Google told me.

When my mom told me that one of the girls at the restaurant was getting married and needed a photographer that didn’t cost an arm and a leg, I’ll admit I was far more excited than the two hundred dollars I’m making for a full day of shooting plus editing should justify. I probably would have done it for free. However, if I’ve learned anything from my mom, it is that you should never work for free.

The sun casts a warm glow through the slats of the barn’s walls, illuminating the lilac fabric carefully draped from the rafters. The intimate wedding party gathers around a small, rustic wooden table at the far end of the barn, bejeweled with wildflowers and flickering candles. As the bride and groom exchange vows, a gentle breeze carries the sweet scent of lavender from the open field outside.

The groom and his groomsmen are dressed in dark brown suits, pressed white shirts, and no ties. I’ve always loved when men wear suits outside the standard black, gray, and blue. There probably isn’t a science to it, but I like to think more uniquely colored suits add an extra little something.

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