Roxystarts trembling at my feet, soIbend down, scoop her into my arms, and say over and over in a soothing voice, “Shh.It’sokay.Everything’sokay.”
Withina block, we are soaked through.Ispot a tree that’s tall enough for us to stand under, with dense enough limbs and leaves to protect us somewhat from the rain, yet still much shorter than all the other trees around, making it an unlikely target for the lightning.Ipoint it out toMackenzieand we run for it.
“Brr!”Mackenziesays as we huddle in under the tree, wiping the rain from our faces. “Thatsure livened things up!”
IsetRoxyon the ground and squint out at the skies in the direction the clouds seem to be moving from.Itdoesn’t look like we are getting blue skies again anytime soon.Roxydoesn’t seem to mind the rain, but that lightning sure is spooking her.
WhenIstand back up,Mackenziehas her phone out, the camera on, and asks, “Shouldwe get a picture?”
Thistime,Idon’t tell her thatIdon’t want to be in the picture—Ijust scoot in close so she can get the image of us drenched in rain.
Asshe is doing something on her phone— probably going into an app to post it—Isay, “Inotice you like to document a lot of your life.Doyou mind ifIask why?”Itis very much the opposite of whatI’minclined to do, soIam genuinely curious about what the draw is for her.
Mackenzielooks down at her phone for several seconds, like she’s not really seeing it, then turns off the screen and slides it into the side pocket of her exercise pants.
“RememberhowIsaidIwas an easily distracted and kind of oblivious kid?”Inod, and she lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Ijust wasn’t… there when my family got together to snap a picture when we were off somewhere having fun.AndInever really sat still long enough to be in pictures.
“Ihadn’t noticed that was happening— oblivious, remember?— untilIwas a sophomore in high school and my boyfriend,Jonas, came over to my house for the first time.Hewanted to look at our family photo albums, which were filled with plenty of pictures of my parents and sisters, but only an occasional blurry picture of me asIwas running somewhere else.
“Itwas likeIhadn’t even been there.LikeIwasn’t a part of any of the things we did growing up.Afterhe went home,Iasked my mom whyIwasn’t in any of the pictures in our albums.Shesaid, ‘Oh, honey,Itried.Youjust didn’t seem interested.’
“Andsince the albums were out, my sisters were looking through them, talking about all the things they remembered from every vacation, every trip to the park or the swimming pool, every family outing, every birthday, every silly face.
“AndIrealized thatIdidn’t have many of the memories that they did.Idon’t know how, exactly, but it was like the memories were tied to the pictures.”
Inod. “Kindof like when you were a kid in school— if you took notes in class, you remembered those things more, even if you never referred back to the notes?”
“Yes!Exactly.”Shelooks at me like maybeI’mseeing her more deeply and she’s wondering if she can see the same in me. “Bythen,Ihad my own phone and was taking my own pictures, andIrealized how much sharper those memories were for me.”
Inod, understanding so much more. “So, when you pull out your phone to take a picture, it means that this moment is one you want to remember.”Honestly,Ikind of feel honored.EvenifIam trying to hide the fact thatI’mfreaked out that she might post it on social media.
“Yes.”Shelooks up at the leaves above us for a long moment, just watching the few raindrops that are making their way down through the foliage.Ijust wait, hoping that she will continue.Eventually, she does.
“It’salso more than that.Atthe beginning of my junior year of high school,IdecidedIwanted to be a member of theNationalHonorSociety.Theapplication asked for a letter of recommendation from a faculty member.SoIwent to my very favorite teacher from my sophomore year—Ms.Strand.Shetaught my biology class and really changed howIlook at the world.Iasked her if she would write the letter, and she just stared at me with a blank expression for a bit before she said, ‘I’msorry, can you tell me your name?Idon’t remember you being in my class.’”
Isuck a breath in through my teeth.
“Yeah.Iwas absolutely crushed that she didn’t remember me.Andthen, that very same year,Imissed school picture day becauseIwas sick.Idon’t even know whyIwasn’t there when they did retakes, and it never once occurred to me again that year thatImissed it.
“Soat the end of the school year,Igot my yearbook and started looking through it, and realizedIwasn’t even in it.Notin the part where everyone is listed alphabetically, and of course,Iwasn’t even in any of the pictures of sports games and other activities throughout the school year.Somehow,Iwasn’t even in theKeyClubpicture!”
I’mimmediately transported back to my high school days.Imay not have had any experiences in high school whereIfelt invisible or forgettable, butI’vehad plenty in my life as an intelligence operative since then.Mostof those experiences were by design, but listening to her makes it feel as though there is now a string connecting the two of us.Pullingme closer.I’venever felt anything like it before.
Myheart breaks forMackenzieandIstep closer to her, wishingIcould wrap my arms around her, yet knowing that it could stop her from telling the rest of the story, andIget the sense that she really needs to tell it.
“Ijust felt… small.Invisible.LikeIdidn’t matter and wouldn’t be remembered.Itwasn’t just thatIwasn’t in the yearbook or my family albums or that my favorite teacher didn’t remember me.Irealized thatIwas living my life like the pictures.Ina way where no one would remember me whenIwas gone.LikeIwas living my life with all the colors… muted.Witheverything muted.”
Shepulls out her phone again and kind of tips it back and forth like she’s trying to gesture to everything it contains. “Ijust want to show thatIwas there, you know?WhereverIwas.ThatIdid things.ThatImattered.AndIwant to keep the memories tied to them.”Sheshrugs. “IguessIjust want to know thatIwas a part of things.ThatIwas seen.”Sheslides her phone back into her pocket.
Thistime,Ifollow the urge to comfort her and wrap my arms around her, pulling her in close.Shetucks her arms in by her chest, andIcan feel her shivering.Shemust be so cold.Iwish my clothes weren’t soaking wet soIcould offer her more warmth.
Roxy’sleash is still around my wrist, and she practically sits onMackenzie’sfeet, doing what she can to comfort her, too.
AsIholdMackenzieagainst my chest,Ithink about the slight tremor that was in her voice as she spoke and the earnestness in her eyes.Iknow that this isn’t something she shares often.Andwhat she just shared was her being even more vulnerable with me thanIhad been with her.Ifeel the weight of the trust she’s placed in me by telling me, and it makes me want to take her confession and somehow hold it carefully and protect it from any harm.
“Isthat why you started theOutsidetheBubbleclub?”
Shepulls back from me just enough to really look into my eyes without moving enough for my arms to drop from her back. “Oneof the reasons, definitely.Eversince yearbook day as a junior,I’vetried to live life more boldly.SometimesIsucceed, and sometimesIreally don’t.Butif it’s been very long andIfeel myself slipping back toward obscurity and a small life,I’mquick to get myself back on track.Itwas getting myself back on track that made me start the club.”
