December 23 （visa expires in 22 days）
“I’ve got an idea.” Daniel sounded serious.
It was Friday afternoon, and we were sitting in a café with a sea view near Karon beach on the south side of the island. In the shade of the trees, with a breeze coming off the ocean, it felt like paradise. I ordered my usual mango shake and he had an iced latte. He’d been quieter than usual.
“Should I worry?”
“Umm. Nope. Don’t think so. Billions have tried it, and it hasn’t done them any harm.”
“For the millionth time… I am not going on Instagram!”
“Wait until you’ve heard my suggestion!”
“Won’t make any difference.”
“If you go on Instagram…”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t have to do anything. Just accept me as a follower.”
“I’m not one of your followers.”
“No, no. I’ll be following you ! But let me finish.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’ll post a picture of us together and tag you. You know what tagging is?”
“Yes. I’m not a dinosaur.”
“I want to introduce you to my followers because you’re part of my life.”
“Temporarily.”
“Not temporarily. Even if we’re not in the same place, we can still stay in touch. Anyway, you’ll always be part of my life.”
Daniel noticed my skeptical expression. He could already read me.
“Look, I know it’s probably a dumb business decision and I’ll probably lose a lot of followers, but I don’t care.
I want to start making my work more real.
I want people to know who I really am and follow me because of that – not just for the shallow stuff.
Believe me, I’m terrified, but I want to do this with you. ”
My refusal to open an Instagram account is a matter of principle, but his desire to share his life, despite the risk, was honorable. I wondered how I could stick to my guns and help him at the same time.
“Do you promise I don’t need to waste any time on Instagram? That you won’t even ask me to?”
“I promise. You can even delete the app from your phone once you’ve set up an account.”
It sounded reasonable. After all, I was always accusing him of making a living in a shallow industry, so I shouldn’t get in the way if he wanted to make a change.
I downloaded the app and gave Daniel my phone so he could set up my account.
He asked what I wanted my username to be.
Amithai, I said after a pause. That name was already taken, so we added the date.
Then he started taking selfies of us. I obeyed all his stage directions; he was the pro.
I wanted to take off my glasses, but he told me not to.
In the end, he chose a selfie that I hadn’t even been aware he took.
I had no clue why this was the one. It showed us looking at each other, laughing, a second after we’d pulled faces for a ridiculous shot.
“The candid one is the best. I want the photo with you to be real.” Daniel answered the question without me asking it.
I approved the photo and Daniel fiddled with his phone a bit more before finally posting it. I tapped the notification that popped up on my phone and saw that he’d captioned the photo “Love” with a heart emoji, as if he wanted his followers to definitely get the message.
He blinked. He was crying.
“I love you, Amit. I really do. You don’t have to say it back. I’m not afraid anymore.”
I could see he meant it.
“I…” I was speechless. So I cried too, like a little kid who cries because his friend is crying.
We embraced. The wave that broke on the rocks below seemed to smash our separate pasts, presents, and futures to smithereens so that they could be reconfigured as one entity – reborn like a Phoenix rising from the ashes.