Still Life

Kendra

Hi, everyone. Sorry I’ve been dark for a while. Real life and all that. I’m hoping to get back into a nice routine here soon. Just remember to keep breathing. Falling down is only failing if you don’t get back up. These are the lessons that have gotten me this far. This blog is my passion, and I thank you all for being as interested in what I do as I am.

-Lillia Pendragon

Breanna stomps down the steps into our shared basement office. I hurry to finalize the post and close the window out. My housemate is a tall, athletic, impressive woman with a great tangled mane of rich brown hair streaked with natural blonde highlights. Just looking at he it is easy to guess that she has one of those bit inviting personalities. The kind that most people are drawn to, and I find draining. She leans on the desk with her muscular arms, and brings her face towards me. She doesn’t get too close, but she knows that I am not really comfortable with her being as near to me as she is. “Kendra, Kendra, Kendra, what am I supposed to do with you? It’s not good for you to be down here alone all the time.” Her words are tinged with a harsh edge.

I snatch up my camera from under the desk, and snap her photo.

“Jesus, turn the flash off next time!” She staggers away.

I look at the picture on the small display screen. Her hazel eyes are bright; apparently she isn’t actually mad at me. I delete it. With a deep breath I raise my eyes to stare at the bridge of her nose. It lasts about six seconds before I drop my gaze back to the camera. My apparent inability to make eye contact requires me to take a lot of delicate, stressful steps.

“Amuse yourself?” She chuckles.

I shake my head. I had actually forgotten that the flash was on, and I feel bad for it.

“Did you get yourself all set back up, dear?”

I give her a small smile, and nod quickly.

“That’s good. Sorry about your old computer getting fried. I just didn’t see it.” She had been mopping and accidentally knocked it off of the corner of the table, and into the bucket. I was more distraught than angry. Most of my files are backed up onto a cloud, but some of my photos were lost. And the buttons on this keyboard aren’t spaced the same. It’s going to take a while to get used to that difference. It is an upgrade, faster processing, bigger memory. In the long term, it’ll be worth it.

I wave my hand dismissively, and she continues.

“What do you do with it all anyway? I mean, you’ve got what, three cameras? And you spend so much time on the computer, but whenever I come down all I see is a blank desktop. You’re not doing anything inappropriate are you?”

I blink at her chest. I do not know what she is insinuating. I own five cameras; one Polaroid, three digital cameras of different grades, and one high quality film camera. She allowed me to convert a small closet down here into a darkroom to develop my own film. Mostly I spend my computer time typing and retyping before making posts to my blog. She doesn’t know about the blog. It’s not that I’m trying to hide it; I just haven’t told her about it. Yet. Maybe someday, when I’m ready. As for the blank desktop, she’s right. I keep no shortcuts on it, and my start bar only comes up when I push the button for it. I like it clean. I tried keeping things on the desktop, but it felt cluttered and stressed me out.

“Well. Whatever you’re doing, you seem to be better lately. I’m glad. Just remember, you were going out tomorrow. Don’t forget to sleep.”

I just her a huff in response.

“Hey, I don’t make your plans. I just try to help you stick to them.”

“I know.” It comes out almost as a croak. I haven’t spoken in hours (or has it been a day or more?), and my voice always feels weird.

“Alright. I’m going out for a bit. Text me if you need anything, okay, darling?”

I give her another nod before she heads back upstairs to leave. Once I hear the door close I sink into my chair and exhale slowly. Breanna’s great, but sometimes she doesn’t understand how suffocating she is. Of course she did give me a place to live, and she doesn’t expect too much from me. I plug my camera into my sleek laptop. The download will take a little bit. I’ve been without a computer for a few weeks, and in that time I took a lot of photographs. Nothing too great, but definitely stuff I can work with. Backdrops for poems and such. While heading up the stairs I pull the elastic out of my hair and let it cascade down my shoulders and back. A bright pink Post-It note is stuck to the inside of the door to the main floor. It just says ‘Remember to eat.’ One of the many gentle reminders that Breanna placed all around the house after finding out that I struggle with some things. In her cozy kitchen I grab a couple pieces of pizza out of the fridge, and pop them in the microwave. I take the time to study our shared calendar. Written in my tightly cramped handwriting in tomorrow’s little box is ‘Visit Marco’s.’ I hate having to make plans like this, but I like getting the money I need to do what I love. After a few minutes I realize the microwave isn’t running. I never turned it on. Everyday is a struggle, some are just worse than others. I’m coming off of a bad stretch. Normalizing is always a rough road.

Seth

My aunt told my mother that she knew a guy who has a friend who spoke to a priest who knows a guy who owns a café and is always looking for help. So here I am standing just inside the door of what should be that little café. A handful of people are in line in front of me. I’m hoping the broad man behind the counter with salt and pepper hair is Marco. The door behind me opens, and a young woman with long dark azure dyed hair, in white jeans, a loose black t-shirt, and elbow length gloves walks in with a messenger bag clutched to her side. She cuts right past us to the counter, taps on it three times with her knuckles, and rushes off into a corner where I can’t see her anymore. This might officially be one of the weirdest moments of my entire life. I can smell a trace that she left behind, cucumber melon, pleasant and gentle. Why do I know that? Because it’s the scent of my shampoo.

“Tyler!” The man behind the counter shouts. “Kendra’s here. I need you to cover the register for a bit.” He grabs a mug, fills it with water, puts a scone on a plate, and vanishes into the same corner as the girl.

When it’s my turn at the register I smile at Tyler. “What can I do for you, dude?” He asks casually.

Smiling, I tuck a bit of my short auburn hair behind my ear; I need to get it trimmed. “I would like to speak to Marco, is he in?” I go for my best, level, no nonsense voice.

“Yeah.” He thumbs in the direction the other two disappeared. “There’s a little booth over there.” I begin making my way back there. “He’s in a meeting though, dude.”

I slide around a small divider into a nearly invisible alcove and immediately meet the gaze of the blue-haired woman over the broad man’s shoulder. She inhales sharply and looks pointedly down at the plate in front of her. Her fierce blue eyes, just a touch lighter than her hair, look wild, almost panicked. A camera is hanging from a strap around her neck. The man, Marco I assume, is leaning over a laptop examining the screen. “Thank you so much for doing this, Kendra. People keep telling me I need to train one of the kids who work for me to do this stuff, but you’re so great at it. Eh?” He turns and looks at me. “We’re a little busy back here, sir.”

“Sorry. Are you Marco? A friend of a friend sent me.”

She stands up quickly, nods to Marco and moves quickly to get around me. I grab her wrist gently. “Hey I’m just there to talk-” She cuts me off with a swift slap to the face. It breaks my grip and she is out the door before I can blink. I’m seeing stars.

“Kendra!” Marco puts his hand on my shoulder and turns me back to him. “That girl does all my social media and internet work and you just scared her off!”

“Marco? Is something going on?” A gentle voice calls from near the door. I look to see a priest with short brown hair, a strong nose, and thin rectangular glasses.

“Yes, Father. This boy just scared her off.”

“Right. I’ll bring her back. Quick as I can.” With that, the priest turns and ducks out of the café.

“Now, boy, you and I are going to talk about boundaries.” He sits me in the booth next to her bag. “You can’t just go around latching on to people, especially fragile little ladies like Kendra.”

“I was just trying to keep her from leaving just because I was here.”

“Well you made it worse didn’t you? So why are you here? Chasing away that poor dear.”

“I was directed here for work.”

“Work?! After that? Do you even understand what you just did?”

“I touched her, and that made it worse. I think. Honestly I have no idea what just happened.”

“Neither do I.” He sighs and collapses back into his seat.

“Then why are you yelling at me?” I lean back. I know my face is flushed. My voice is squeaking.

“Because something isn’t right with that girl. She barely talks, she refuses to even shake my hand, and sometimes she just doesn’t show up. But what she does do is manage my entire online business profile. Since she started working with me I’ve nearly doubled sales, and now I get orders from all over, and I have no idea how any of it works.”

“So she’s some kind of a marketing genius?”

“She’s something.” He seems to deflate. “Alright, who are you and why would I hire you?”

I straighten, and do my best to smooth out my voice. “My name is Seth Tanner and I’m a hard worker looking for a fresh start.”

“Okay. If the father brings her back, you apologize. And if she accepts it, I might hire you.”

“Deal.” I offer my hand, and he takes it firmly in his much larger one.