Page 44 of Deeper

Rylan

“Wine or liquor?” Tatum asks through the phone.

I click the power button off on my remote. “Wine. White wine.”

She’s a smart girl. A drink sounds good right about now.

“Got it. I’ll see you in a few.”

I pull the throw blanket over my legs and wait for her.

Tatum had another meeting tonight. I don’t understand how she’s still going there after all this time. I did six weeks, and it was more than enough.

After a few more minutes, I hear her car pull into my driveway.

Tatum bursts through the door without knocking. “Hey!”

She zooms past where I’m sitting on the couch, and I catch myself smiling as she walks straight to my kitchen and grabs us glasses for the wine. She sits down next to me and pulls the blanket over her own legs so that we’re sharing it.

“Hi, friend. How was your day?” I ask her.

“Oh, you know, same old shit. I did a little of this and a lot of that.”

“Informative. I also did this and that.”

She laughs and shoves a wine glass into my hand as she looks around my place. “I like the new chair.” She gestures to the lounger in the corner. “It looks comfortable and very you,” she compliments.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve noticed your space doesn’t have much of your life put into it.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are no photos on the walls. Your office doesn’t even showcase your work at The Kinky. I told you that I like to photograph people. I’m naturally observant when it comes to them, too, and while your home is beautiful and definitely you, it doesn’t tell me anything else about you. Your articles are starting to become extremely popular. Why have you never framed any and put them in your office?”

“I don’t know. The recognition from my boss is enough, I guess.” I never thought to hang any in the office.

“What about the lack of photos? Don’t you want pictures of your family in here?”

“All the photos of my dad from my childhood were tossed or whatever it was my mom did with them. I only have one or two pictures of my dad, and they’re in a box in my closet.” I suddenly feel uncomfortable in my beautiful space.

“And what about your mom? Why don’t you have pictures of her?”

“I do somewhere. They just aren’t framed and hung.”

“Why?”

“Tatum…” I groan.

“I’m curious, Rylan. I know things turned bad between you and your mom, but are they still bad? Do you talk to her? Is she in your life?”

I take a large sip of wine before saying, “She isn’t.”

“Why?”

I often wonder if my mom would still be in my life had things turned out differently. I’d planned to never speak to her again after my eighteenth birthday. I’d been set on cutting her out of my life completely. But this decision wasn’t mine. This choice was made for me.

“She’s dead.”

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