2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Maci
I ’m positive I will wither away and die if I don’t get something to eat soon. My stomach grumbles in agreement.
The sun is lowering behind the tree line, casting the nature preserve where I’m set up in dusky light. Sweat trickles down my spine and my long, dark hair is like a blanket against my neck. The ebbing light is doing nothing to relieve the day’s stifling heat. Texas refuses to admit it’s autumn.
In contrast, I fully embraced October and all its glory for family photo sessions today. Halloween is my favorite.
The last family of the day is leaving with their witch-costumed toddler. “I’ll send your proof package over as soon as it’s ready. These are going to be adorable!”
“I can’t wait to see how they turn out!” A huge smile splits the mom’s face as she almost squeals at me. She squeezes me in a hug before they gather their things and head back to the parking lot.
A small would-be lemonade stand draped with black tulle sets the Halloween scene. Glass bottles of various shapes and sizes, painted in black matte, line the mantle. Their white lettering reads things like “Pick Your Poison” and “Tail of Newt”. One showcases a Jolly Roger. A tiny, round folding table topped with black pumpkins, a glittery skull, and a plastic cauldron completes the whimsical look .
It takes two trips to load my Jeep with the backdrop and decor items before I can jump in and turn the AC on full blast. I beeline for the nearest drive-thru. A juicy bacon cheeseburger with all the veggies—except onion, because seriously, who eats that—is just what I need. My mouth waters and I shove a scalding parmesan fry into my mouth before clearing it with my vanilla shake. An appreciative groan escapes into the otherwise quiet Jeep. This simple pleasure is the cherry on top of a perfect day.
Rush hour traffic in Austin is always a nightmare, but it gives me a chance to finish my meal. A few minutes before I reach my apartment, I use the preset to call my grandmother.
“Hellooo?” Her silly greeting floats through the phone to me, lightening my heart. There’s nothing she can’t fix. Today was a high, but so many times I called during lows over the years and just hearing her comforting voice often gave me the strength I needed to persevere.
“Hi, Nana.”
“Hi, baby. How are you?” Even through the phone, her love wraps me in a much needed hug.
“Good. I just got done with some mini-sessions and now I’m headed home.”
“That sounds nice. How did the photos go?” The TV chatters in the background.
“Actually, really well. Most of the kids were comfortable. I’m sure it helped that most of them were in Halloween costumes. The last one was a witch and she was so cute!”
“Oh, good!” Nana’s entire personality can be summed up as a sassy heart of gold. I know her care for these children having a good time during their photos is genuine. Talking to her only intensifies my need to see her. I miss her so much and long for the days we were under the same roof. Summers and holidays spent with Nana make up most of my favorite memories.
“What do you have going on tomorrow?”
“Oh, baby, you know I’m so busy.” A giggle tumbles out before she’s had time for the joke to land.
“You’re so silly.” I shake my head with a small laugh of my own. “I want to take you to lunch. Think you can pencil me in?”
“Oh, I’d like that. I want to see some of your recent work.”
“I’ll bring some things for you to keep this time,” I promise.
The unmistakable sound of her hands clapping once in excitement bursts through the phone. “That’ll be wonderful.”
“Where do you want to eat?” I park in my usual spot and gather my trash.
“How about Aimee’s?”
“The French bistro? Ok.” I should have known she’d pick her favorite place. I’d be happy with sun tea and her cheesecake, but I want her to get out for a bit. “I’ll be there around eleven. Is that ok?”
“Yes, baby. See you then. I love you so much.” She makes a sweet kissing sound.
“Love you, too, Nana. See you tomorrow.”
After a long shower, I settle on the couch dressed in my favorite comfort leggings and a thin, baggy sweater. The coffee table is hidden beneath my laptop and folders from today’s clients. The scent of toasted marshmallow fills the living room, wafting from the lit candle on the side table. Faux pumpkins, similar to the ones I used in photos today, surround it.
My tiny one-bedroom apartment is minimally decorated, aside from my celebration of fall. I never spend much time, effort, or money on decor if it isn’t photos.
Color prints of my favorite shoots from over the years hang above the thrifted, suede couch. The coffee and side table, also second-hand, don’t match. None of the three pieces fit any one aesthetic, nor was I focused on one.
A giant spoon and fork are mounted over my bistro set in the blip of a dining room. I think every aesthetically hopeful dining room in America has the same set. In the hall are my favorite black and white photos. Five years I’ve been here and it’s always seemed temporary.
Before getting started on editing the photos from today, I check the group chat with my best-friends, Izzy and Leah. No messages. I send a quick message wishing Izzy a safe arrival in Hawaii and reminding her to take a thousand and one photos so that I can live vicariously through her. Her obligatory “I got leid” picture fills my screen in response, eliciting a huge grin. She’s all legs in a pale blue dress with a golden lei around her neck. Leah follows up with entirely too many middle finger emojis.
Our trio is akin to Neapolitan ice cream. Izzy is vanilla. Not because of her ice-blonde hair, but because she’s subtle, reliable, and always put together. She fits well in every situation. Leah is strawberry. A little bit tart, a little bit sweet. The wild one that maybe you don’t expect to enjoy, but thoroughly do because it’s strawberry and how could you not? And I’m chocolate. Versatile in a similar way to vanilla, but packing a bigger punch and also not everyone’s cup of tea .
I work until my eyes blur, managing to edit half of the photos from today’s mini sessions, before padding into my bedroom with my phone. The stark white, thousand-thread-count, Egyptian cotton sheets call to me. Only the bed has received luxury attention in the years I’ve lived here. Otherwise, I splurged on photography equipment, backdrops, or session decor. Focused solely on building my business and honing my craft, everything else was an afterthought.
I set my phone on my secondhand nightstand, flip off my lamp, and shove myself deep in the covers, asleep instantly.
Sometime in the night, my phone vibrates across the nightstand, jarring me awake. Adrenaline surges through me. Stephanie , my mother’s name, flashes on the screen, adding to the dread.
I put my phone to my ear, pushing my hair from my face and sitting upright. My mother’s curt voice comes down the line before I can utter a greeting. Her clipped tone isn’t a surprise, but the words she’s throwing at me are crushing.
“Mother passed. The funeral will be this weekend.”
“Nana?” My voice is a cross between a squeak and a croak. Obviously, she’s referring to my grandmother, but my brain is frazzled.
People talk about pain being a knife to the heart, but this is a battering ram. A crushing force on my chest making it nearly impossible to breathe.
Stephanie’s words remain composed. “Alan and I are driving down now.” I’m only half listening to my mother’s voice .
How did this happen?
“I don’t understand. I just talked to her.” My eyes land on the album and loose photographs I prepared to take to Nana.
Stephanie scoffs. “These things happen quickly, Maci.”
Silent tears hit my cheeks. I know better than to count on her for emotional support.
While my relationship with my mother has been strained since I was a teen, my relationship with Nana only grew over the years. Despite my lack of proximity, I often called Nana daily through high school. The calls may have been less frequent in the six years since graduation, but our bond never diminished.
This loss is compounded by knowing how close I was to seeing her.