Page 88 of On the Ropes
She set her laptop down carefully. “There are. It’s been unexpected but nice to see people respond to what I talked about in the fundraising ask. That understanding of home and the neighbors you love there. What you would do to make their lives better.”
“I would expect it,” I said, voice rough at the edges. “You have an impact on people, Tabitha. A very real one.”
Her lips curved shyly. “I appreciate that.”
She wiggled off my lap and settled back against the cushion. She kicked her legs up and draped them across mine. My eyes landed on her camera gear, spread across the table. It looked high end and well-loved at the same time.
“What made you first pick up a camera?” I asked.
She paused in the act of fixing her ponytail. “My mom.”
“Seriously?”
“I wish it wasn’t,” she said wryly. “But I first picked up my dad’s digital camera as an act of defiance. She was such a critical person and the beauty of self-expression was utterly lost on her. Alexis and I were only kids at the time—dancing, coloring, reading out loud.” Her nostrils flared. “She always pointed out every mistake and error. Every place where we’d made our own decision but she would have done it differently. It wasn’t like my sister and I were applying to fucking Juilliard. I’m talking about the simple joy of making things when you’re a kid.”
“Before you’re an adult and the world judges it,” I said.
“Yeah, or makes you feel like an imposter. I picked up my dad’s camera because I wanted to enjoy my own creativity without her influence. To follow a story idea or a voice or some random inspiration that popped up while walking home from school. To stretch out past the bounds of her control and her criticism.”
We could hear Alice and Eddie laughing outside, through the storm door. The sound turned Tabitha’s head. “Being behind a camera makes you pay attention to all the details that pass us by. Stories that need to be listened to. Nature that’s being stomped on. Love letters tucked into the flaps of old books. Street art the size of a quarter hidden in city alleys. It’s all there for us to see if we take the time to see it.”
I reached for her hand and held it. “I’m starting to see it now too.”
Her smile was dazzling.
I squeezed her fingers. “You talked about your mom in our support group, said she didn’t accept your identity. Did she ever change?”
Sadness quickly replaced the smile on her face. She didn’t hide it or cover it up with a joke. “No, she never did.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. I wrapped my arm across her legs and held her tight.
Her eyes softened. “I know you understand. In the end, my bisexuality was another way she tried to control and criticize me. She didn’t want a queer daughter, so her first step was to try and show me where I was mistaken or had poor judgment. My bisexuality was only confusion at first. And then a hormonal phase. And then plain not real.” Tabitha’s lips quirked up at the ends. “Our support group taught me a lot about ownership of my identity. My bisexuality doesn’t exist or not exist based on her belief or approval. It’s mine, all mine. And I’m so proud of it.”
I brought her hand up to brush my lips against her knuckles. “I’m proud of you too.”
She bit her lip. Then crawled across the couch to kiss me sweetly. When we parted, the way she stared at me wasn’t temporary. Used to be when I was in the ring, I thought if you anticipated a hit, it hurt less. It became one more thing to analyze. Pain avoidance as a topic of study. My gut told me I wasn’t some meaningless hookup for her, though we were only having fun. Yet every morning together felt less temporary. More permanent. She didn’t talk about Texas and I didn’t bring it up. I wasn’t thinking about my two job offers. And she didn’t pry.
I wasn’t so sure I could avoid what I already saw coming. And still couldn’t dredge up enough willpower to stop it.
A knock on the door startled us both. I could just make out Alice’s white hair.
“Tabitha? Are you decent?”
She smirked and swung her legs around, walking to the door. She pushed it open and said, “Have I ever been?”
“My favorite types of women rarely are,” Alice replied. “And I wanted you to know that I’ve just put my face on and Eddie’s telling Annie stories if you’d like to make a movie about us again.”
Tabitha’s face brightened. “You look gorgeous. I wasn’t planning on filming today, but…” She tossed me an amused grin over her shoulder. “What the hell? Let’s make a movie.”
A few minutes later and we were back in front of the bench. It didn’t take Tabitha long to get set up, positioning Eddie and Alice the way she had the other day. I leaned against the fence behind them. Rowan came round the corner with his usual bag of groceries for his grandmother.
“Are we doin’ a photo shoot?” he asked.
I nudged his shoulder with mine. “We’re making Alice and Eddie internet famous again.”
“Tabitha, you can put my grandson in the video too if you need additional charisma,” Alice said.
Tabitha raised playful eyes at the two of us. “Hi, Rowan. Did you bring some extra charisma for me?”
