25. Chapter 25
Chapter 25
Maci
W ednesday morning, the mailbox is full when I make it back to my apartment. There’s another colored notice on my front door. I need to let them know to prepare my lease renewal.
Inside, my apartment feels vacant. Not like Nana’s house when I first arrived after she’d passed. That was emotional. This is void of purpose.
Suddenly, I don’t want to be here at all and I hate to admit that I’m already missing Sutton. Having extra time with my friends and family lately has also helped my heart. And probably my mental health.
Andi calls Wednesday afternoon to discuss the Fall Festival.
“Hi, Maci! How are you, honey?”
I’m thankful she can’t see my blushing cheeks. Her continued kindness is so comforting, even if part of me feels like I’m keeping a secret from her.
“I’m doing well. I’m looking forward to helping next weekend. What can you tell me about the event?”
“We have a small budget for a photographer. Anyone who wants photos would show up and provide contact information. They could work out packages with you. Our previous photographer was offering three edited images for forty-five dollars.”
“Don’t worry about a fee for me. Packages would normally cover a session fee, but I always discount minis like this anyway. ”
Andi grunts a disagreement, but doesn’t argue. I’m not convinced she’s going to heed my request. “Will you have a backdrop? The photographer has an outside setup.”
“Sure, not a problem. Anything in particular?”
“Your choice. You can load in as early as seven, but once Main Street is closed, you won’t be able to get a vehicle in for load-out until four.”
“Sounds perfect.” I’m already dreaming up a fun backdrop. “Thank you, Andi.”
“No, thank you, sweetheart. I’m so glad you ran into Sutton.”
Heat rushes up my chest into my neck and face. “Me, too. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Over the next few days, I keep myself as busy as possible. Cleaning, laundry, and work. The latter part is easiest to do as a one-person business. I spend time preparing social media posts, responding to inquiries, scheduling sessions, and arranging printing and pickups.
Sutton and I text regularly. Easy things, like how our days are going. He always sends me a message in the morning. Otherwise, I don’t usually hear from him until late in the afternoon. They’re all short and sweet, which is fitting since he’s most often a man of few words. It doesn’t bother me. The silences with him have been comfortable without an insistent need to fill the quiet.
Saturday he sends me a sunrise picture, which is by far the most gorgeous sunrise I’ve ever seen and it’s only a photo. Monday afternoon, I sit in the courtyard of the complex, enjoying the breezy day. One of my favorite elements of the property are the many outdoor seating areas. A noise in the distance distracts me from my book.
A sliver of the highway in the distance peeks between two of the apartment buildings. A big ass truck drives by, pulling a large cattle trailer and I have a sudden epiphany. It’s crazy and I think he’s going to laugh at me, but I send Sutton a text anyway.
Me:
You have a spare livestock trailer hanging around?
Cowboy:
For all the livestock you need to move from your apartment?
I grin.
Me:
No. For a photo shoot.
An open one. You know with just the metal bars?
He doesn’t respond right away, maybe deciding whether he wants to really indulge in this conversation or not. Or maybe he’s roping some calf trying to flee the confines of a pasture. A laugh bubbles up as I picture ranch hands chasing a wild baby cow.
My phone vibrates.
Cowboy:
You want to take pictures of cows?
Me:
You’re impossible.
I start to type out an explanation and decide it would be easier to call, so I do.
He picks up on the first ring. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘yes’.”
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “You and I both know I’m talking about the Fall Festival this weekend. I have a plan for a setup, but I have one that seems more fitting, assuming I can get my hands on a trailer.”
He doesn’t respond. There’s shuffling from his end and then my phone vibrates against my ear. I check the notification, assuming it’s a text from Leah or Izzy, but it’s from Sutton.
It’s perfect.
“A simple yes would do,” I joke. “Yes, like that.”
“You realize it's had shit in it right? And real animals?”
“I do know how they’re used.”
“I never know with you city women.”
Somehow, I know my huffed sigh elicits a grin on his end. I make an effort for a syrupy, sweet tone. “Would it be a huge inconvenience to bring it to the festival?”
“No,” he says simply. Like it’s already a done deal. “Do you need it both days?
“No, I’m only scheduled for Saturday.”
“Ok.”
Someone walking a dog passes by and the dog barks incessantly at me, bouncing at the end of its leash. I jump initially and glare in their direction.
“When are you coming in?” His tone is measured.
“I was planning on coming Friday.”
“Alright, let me know when you get in. I need to get back to it. These dumb shits need every bit of hand-holding I can offer today.” The last part is growled and a tingle shoots through me.
Friday morning I wake before any light creeps through my blinds, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t wait any longer to get back to Nana’s. If I’m being honest, I want to be close to everyone again.
Pulling into Nana’s drive brings a sense of peace to me. I drag my suitcase in behind me, not bothering to unload any of my equipment. In Austin, I would never leave the equipment loose in my Jeep, but out here, no one is meandering through the driveway, checking out the goods.
As soon as I step inside Nana’s house, I realize that the time away has provided me with clarity. Nana’s house has always been a place where I was welcomed. A second home. But ultimately, it’s not. Not that the apartment is. Not long-term, anyway.
There are too many fond memories here to hand it off to someone outside of our family, and also too much love left to give for it to sit idle. For longer than I keep track of, I stand in the living room, staring up in the loft area and visualizing something different for this home.