“Yeah, actually.” I take a seat beside Suzy, plucking a strawberry out of her bowl before popping it into my mouth. Her brow furrows as she glares at me. “I’m heading down to the arena this afternoon to meet my buddy, Benji’s, sister about a photography gig.”
Jade turns off the water, grabbing a towel and drying her hands as she turns and rests her backside against the counter, meeting my gaze. “Hannah?”
“Yeah.”
“What kind of photography gig?”
“That yearly festival…” I snap my fingers while I try to place the name that’s clearly not coming to me.
“Stampede Days,” Jade finishes for me.
“That’s the one. They need a couple photographers to work that event.”
Photography has been something I’ve enjoyed since I was a teenager. My parents got me my first camera for Christmas in middle school, and I immediately found it fascinating. Getting to show people how I see the world feels special. Finding simple and otherwise ordinary things and bringing them to life, showing off their beauty, is something that brings me great joy.
For as long as I can remember, it’s something I’ve wanted to make a career out of, but never felt like I could. After years and years of my dad drilling it into my head the importance of having arealjob—his words, not mine—that’s stable and reliable, and having him point out time and time again that“taking pictures for a living”is anything but, I kind of just gave up the dream. The passion never left, though; it burns inside of me.
I spent a lot of this year at college really thinking about what I wanted with my life. Where I wanted it to go. The closer I get to my senior year, the more dread fills me. I’ve never wanted to pursue a career in the field I’m going to school for. It was always something meant to appease my dad. Make him proud of me. But the more time that goes on, the more I realize I don’t want to live a life appeasing anybody. The idea of finishing out my degree sounds about as appealing as swallowing shards of glass.
Photography is what I want to do. It’s my passion. It brings me a sense of fulfillment. And I think I owe it to myself to at leasttry to see if I can make a solid career out of it. If I can’t, then at least I gave it my best efforts. This gig at Stampede Days pays, and I took several photography jobs while at school, so I have enough saved up. And besides, life isn’t always about making the most money. Sure, money is great, and I’d love to have enough of it to where I won’t have to worry. But happiness matters too. Doing something that fills your cup.
“That’ll be fun,” Jade mutters as she takes a seat beside Suzy.
“When does Boone get home for the event?”
I don’t miss the way Jade tenses slightly at my question.Interesting.Wonder what that’s about.
“Sunday,” she replies, not meeting my gaze.
“He’ll be home for how long?”
“A week.”
“Daddy’s coming home?” Suzy asks, wide-eyed, with a smile plastered on her face.
Jade smiles down at her, the sight warm and loving, as she brushes a hand over Suzy’s head. “Yes, baby. Daddy will be home in a few days.”
“Are you excited to have him home?” I ask Jade.
Her eyes lift to meet mine, something passing through them I can’t place before she nods. “I’m excited Suzy will get to spend some time with him before he has to leave for the road again.”
“What about you?” I ask. “Any plans?”
“I’ve gotta bring Suzy to Mom and Dad’s in a few hours. They’re taking her for a couple nights. And then I’m meeting some friends for lunch.”
“That sounds fun.” Nudging Suzy with my elbow, I add, “Bet you’ll have fun with Grammie and Pop-Pop.”
She nods. “Pop-Pop told me we could have ice cream sundaes and watchMoanaafter dinner.”
“Hell yeah. That’ll be a fun time.”
“You’re not supposed to say hell,” Suzy says, causing Jade to glower at me from above her head.
“Yeah, well, neither are you, kid.”
Before my sister can rip me a new one for swearing again, her phone goes off, Boone’s name flashing on the screen. Instead of answering it herself, she hands it to Suzy. “Here, Daddy’s calling to talk to you before you go to Grammie’s.”
Suzy takes the phone and runs into the living room. I can faintly hear the gruff, deep sound of Boone’s voice filling the speakers when she finally answers.
