Chapter one
Jay
Dear Mr. Oliviera,
Thank you for your application for the position of Photography Assistant at the Portland Jaguars NFL Team.
While Mr. Hayes was very impressed with your work over the summer, upon reviewing your application materials, we regret to inform you that you were unsuccessful in this instance.
We appreciate your interest in joining our team, and we want to thank you for the time and energy you invested in this application and the internship work.
Henry personally would like to wish you every success in your future.
Kind Regards,
Loretta Pines
Head of HRfor Portland Jaguars
Chapter two
Jay
I’vegotafuckingtoy airplane attached to my head.
The baby in front of me has spent the last ten minutes on and off wailing, Dad’s swearing under his breath, and Mom is trying to convince the goldendoodle not to eat the backdrop…
Happy Famileez Photography—with two e’s and a z—where joy comes to suffer under fluorescent lighting.
I adjust the softbox and turn on my customer-service smile. “Okay, we’re going to try the airplane one more time,” I say, because in the few months I’ve worked here, I’ve learned the airplane trick buys you exactly five usable frames before emotions win. “On three—one, two…”
Click. Click. Click.
The baby blinks mid-flash. The dog yawns. Dad’s jaw is clenched, but at least everyone is looking at me this time. I already know what the edit will be: clone out drool, soften under-eye circles, brighten the whites, create a holiday card that says, “We’re thriving.” But it’s all fake… nothing like the athletes I used to capture, who can’t fake a thing on the field.
When I graduated with honors and a portfolio that was stellar, I thought I would get my dream job without issue. I should be in Portland right now on the Jaguars’ media team, catching the split second the ball leaves a quarterback’s fingers in golden hour light. Instead, I’m wearing a toy airplane on my head and removing snot in Lightroom.
There’s nothing wrong with my job; it’s a great job for those who want to photograph in studio sessions. There’s nothing wrong, except, it doesn’t bring me joy.
I finish the set, thank them with a practiced grin, and promise edits within fourteen business days. As soon as they leave, I shut the blinds, turn off the lights, and flop onto the wheeled stool behind the computer. I rub the back of my neck. My shoulders ache, a low-grade tension that’s always there lately. Ever since graduation. Ever since I got that email.
I pull up the SD card and start uploading images to edit. The mom’s smile is blurry in the third shot, her head had turned just slightly, but she probably won’t notice. I start editing around the crying baby’s red cheeks.
My phone buzzes, and a notification banner slides across the top of the screen.
Hudson
Yo, I tried calling you yesterday to check if you got my voicemail.
Call me back!
A second later, a voice memo appears from someone else. I hesitate for a moment, then press play.
Daphne’s voice comes through, sounding slightly tinny, with background noise. “Jay, he won’t stop pacing about whether you’ll show tonight, he said something about a pregame ritualyou guys do since he joined? If you can make it, I know he’d appreciate it.”
I smile before I realize I’m doing it. I miss my best friend. Things haven’t been the same since he got drafted to the Oregon Beavers. He’s often exhausted and busy being a dad and fiancé, and I never wanted to add to his plate.
His season started a few weeks ago, but tonight is his big night, since their linebacker got injured in the last game, he’s in. As if I’d miss my best friend’s debut NFL game. I was always going, I just haven’t managed to message him back yet.
