Page 29 of Deeper

Tatum shuffles away from our table toward the counter. I stare at the top of her head, at her headband choice of the day with the likeness of cupcake frosting attached to it, while she places her order. I’ve truly never met anyone like Tatum. It’s honestly refreshing, and it’s been a long time since there was easiness between me and someone else. I think she may have come into my life exactly when I needed her most.

“I’m ready for the inquisition. Do your worst,” she states as she returns to the seat across from me and sets chocolate-covered pretzels between us.

“You couldn’t handle my worst,” I speak through the treat in my mouth and arch my eyebrows in an evil-villain sort of way. “How’s work been?”

“Work is work. It pays the bills.”

“Do you not enjoy it?”

“I love photography. I take the good with the bad with freelance. Some jobs are better than others. The jobs through different media outlets aren’t usually too bad. It started out slow, but things have been picking up lately. During the holidays though, I do a lot of portraits to supplement the slow months, and those jobs suck.”

“What would you want to do instead?”

“Do you mean, what could I possibly do with an arts degree? Because that’s what people normally ask.” Her question is light and without annoyance.

I laugh at her self-deprecating jab. “No, I mean, what’s your dream? What did you envision when you first pursued photography?”

“One day, I’d like to have my own studio.” Tatum seems shy about her answer.

“Besides the obvious—money—what’s stopping you?”

“I grew up in Providence, Maine, and moved to Connecticut a few years ago because I felt like I needed to see more. Like you, I’d lived in the same state my whole life and barely ever traveled outside New England. My time here was supposed to be my first stop, but I somehow lost the confidence to take off again. So, I guess the answer to your question is that I am what’s stopping me.”

“That needs to stop. What do you like to take pictures of?”

“People. Not those stuffy Christmas card portraits but real stuff—people baring their emotions, the ugly parts of humanity and the beautiful parts, too. I’ve always been fascinated by people. The freelance stuff isn’t artistic, but it’s easier. I don’t have to worry if people will understand or like what I’m trying to do.”

“You shouldn’t worry about if they like it or understand it. All that matters is that you do.”

“Easier said than done. If I want my own studio, then they need to like it, too. Actually, they would need to love it in order for me to make a living.”

“Do what you love, and you’ll find your audience. You can’t let the critics hold you back before you even start. Be fearless and tell the haters to fuck off!”

“I’ll try to remember that. I wish I were more like you. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. The way you opened up in anger management and the things you’ve shared with me…”

“I wasn’t brave.” Not in the least. “I was just trying to make the best of a situation I got myself into.”

“If you say so, but I think you’re brave,” she insists with a confident tone.

“I think I’m working on it. I was losing my sanity back in Florida, and I didn’t want to live like that anymore. So, I’m doing something about it.”

I never dealt with anything, and it is all surfacing in my quarter-life crisis.

I partied my way through high school and fought my way into and through college. I worked three jobs to put myself through school and was basically a walking zombie most days. Afterward, I endlessly searched for a job I would love. Eventually, I got an internship at The Kinky. I went from coffee gofer to columnist all before my twenty-fifth birthday. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished, but ever since, I’ve been a little lost. The goals I set out to pursue have been achieved. What now? I am stuck. I love my job, but I don’t want it to be the end of my achievements.

“You convinced me to go down on you in front of strangers. So, something tells me you’re capable of anything you put your mind to. I would love to be more like you,” Tatum shyly admits.

She wouldn’t. When I found myself in a routine, I started to spin out a little, and it was like the past had come back to haunt me. I don’t have grades to concentrate on or three jobs to work to afford tuition, and suddenly, I have a whole shitload of time for the darkness to take over my mind. The scabs have been picked off old wounds, so they are just as raw as ever.

“You don’t want to be anything like me, and I wouldn’t want you to be. I like my friend with the quirky headbands and awkward tendencies. Don’t wish to be anything like me.”

“I like you, too, with your strong appetite for adventure and acceptance for people as they are. I don’t have a lot of friends. Well, I didn’t have any before you.”

I understand not having friends. It seems Tatum and I have come into each other’s lives at the perfect time. I just hope I don’t drag her into the ugly parts of my soul that I’m hiding. She’s too good for that. I’ll make sure to shield her from the dark parts of me that could destroy her.

“We’re going to be great friends, Tatum Bennett.”

“I’d like that, Rylan Pierce. What more do you need in life than one great friend and delicious sweet, warm apple pie?”

---