Post 19
“Longing” by Gaby Bedetti
Post 1: Sunset outside your window. Rose and magenta hues swirl against a corn-colored sky. The colors pop a little extra because of the filter.
The photo is angled up to exclude the small houses and chain link fences across the street. Otherwise, people will realize you live in a drab, rundown house too. You’ve included the interior windowsill to show how well your succulents are thriving.
“All moved in,” you caption it. You pause, add a sprouting plant emoji, and hit post.
Thirty likes. No comments.
***
Post 2: Coffee with cream in a blue-and-white striped ceramic cup. A thin trail of steam escaping the umber beverage is illuminated by a morning sunbeam. You placed the cup beside the local paper on the wooden kitchen countertop in the house where you are renting a room.
You didn’t actually buy the paper. A housemate left it in the kitchen. It just looked like a good prop. It makes you appear civic-minded and reminds everyone that you live in a hip city and work at its prestigious, namesake university.
As soon as you snap the photo, you remove your drink and shuffle back into your room to finish it. You scroll through your timeline while you eat frosted mini-wheats on your bed. You could eat in the kitchen if you wanted since there are metal barstools at the counter. But if you eat in the kitchen you might have to make awkward small-talk with your housemates. None of them are your age. Prices in this area mean it’s not just underpaid researchers who need to share housing. Two of your roommates are undergrads. There is also a woman who looks as old as your mom and a man who must be at least thirty. Easier to just stay in your own space.
You took the cheapest housing you could find, but it's still eating up almost all the money you’re making as a lab assistant. Not to mention that you’re probably contributing to gentrification.
You had to take the job. All your graduate school applications were rejected. You’re counting on this year to give you the research experience you need to apply again.
“Good morning!” reads your caption.
Thirty-five likes. No comments.
***
Post 3: A selfie in front of a bush covered in ruby flowers. Each palm-sized blossom is made of a mass of tissue-paper-thin petals. You’re wearing your favorite pink-tinted wire shades and your lips glisten with mint-flavored lip balm. You beam in the California sun. No caption, just a kissy-face emoji.
The bush is outside a house a block from where you live. You spotted it while walking through the neighborhood. It was a nice break during a weekend of sorting data in your room.
There are so many flowers here and they seem to bloom year-round. It amazes you. You love biking past colorful homes with elegant gardens on your way to work. Some yards are filled with winding rose bushes, others with squat cacti and white rocks. Boughs heavy with lemons and oranges and figs spill over brightly painted fences on every sidewalk. You’re tempted to pick them, but not sure whether that’s legal.
Dozens of photos in front of the flowering bush were required before you got one you like. You felt a little embarrassed as passersby edged around you on the sidewalk.
You’re careful with photos of yourself. You don’t want to catch any angles where your nose looks too big or your lips look too thin. When you have the right pic, you turn up the brightness and increase the color saturation a touch. You never photoshop yourself. That feels dishonest.
Your excitement about the selfie wanes as you register photo after photo of influencers with concave stomachs posing on tropical beaches and former classmates hugging their friends and partners. Your photo seems sort of sad in comparison.
Fifty likes. Two comments. “So cute!!” from a hometown friend, and a heart-eye emoji from a girl you sort of knew in college.
***
Post 4: Beakers at the lab.
This one’s risky. It isn’t a particularly pretty photo. Just a glass beaker on a black counter in a sterile, white room. But having it on the grid makes you look smart. It makes it clear that you’re doing something cool and interesting.
Well, on a day-to-day basis you’re mostly murdering mice, taking tissue samples, and looking at cells under a microscope. You analyze data for other people’s papers. But in a broad sense, you’re contributing to something bigger: Science and the expansion of humanity’s knowledge. Sometimes you worry you like talking about being a scientist more than the mundane work science actually entails.
If the protein your lab is studying can be successfully isolated, it could marginally improve modern understanding of a disease that kills several hundred people each year around the world. This knowledge might one day be applicable to some sort of treatment.
You settle on “it’s off to work we go” as a caption. You hope people will get the Snow White reference.
Twenty-five likes. No comments.
***
Post 5: A photo of your chicken sandwich. Bright red tomato slices and lettuce overflow from thick slabs of multi-grain bread. You manage to get the clear vase of ruby poppies on the wooden picnic-style table in your picture. You’re sitting outside with your lab group, so the lighting is good.
It’s been a week since your last post. Not much has happened since then. This is the first social outing you’ve had since moving here. It’s okay. You have papers to read and work to catch up on. You want to stay on top of literature in the field so you’ll sound knowledgeable when you meet with the Principal Investigator of your lab. You’re hoping to take a more active role in research. If things go well you could have a poster at a conference, or maybe even get your name on a paper.
Right now, you’re nervous.
The PI is in the bathroom so no one is directing the conversation. All the graduate students are chatting comfortably with one another. They’re mostly the same age as you but they’re further ahead in their careers which creates a power imbalance that you can’t quite get around.
Maybe power imbalance isn’t the right word. You just feel ashamed. Some experts in the field examined all of you and determined that you’re not as good as the rest of them. Every time you try to talk to the lunch attendees you feel yourself stumbling over your words and then you get embarrassed. So, you look down at your phone and scroll aimlessly.
Twenty-seven likes. Your college roommate comments “looks tasty.”
***
Post 6: A golden-hour selfie. Late afternoon beams of light come through your bedroom window to wash your face in a warm glow and illuminate your amber eyes and blonde highlights.
You started messing with your camera while procrastinating on your reading and managed to get a great shot. Seated on your bed, your white bedroom wall provides a perfect neutral canvas.
“Golden-hour in the golden state,” you caption the photo with a yellow heart. The likes flow in immediately. You’re glad your selfies do better than still lifes. It might be because of the app’s algorithms, but you like to think people enjoy seeing your face.
“So cute xoxo,” comments your former roommate. “Miss you bb,” writes another college friend. You should call your friends more. You miss them too.
You know you should put the phone away and check back later, but instead, you spend some time scrolling so you can keep monitoring the reactions you’re getting. You have thirty likes in the first half-hour, which is pretty good.
A message in your inbox catches your eye.
You feel a spark of nervous excitement. Maybe it’s a guy “sliding into your DMs”. It might not be a bad thing if it’s someone you know. Some people start relationships over social media. That’s probably getting ahead of yourself though. Or, maybe it’s your former roommate. Now that you’re settled you could invite her to come to visit. Your room is small — it feels like a glorified closet — but there’s enough space on the floor next to your twin bed for one guest.
The message isn’t from anyone you know. The user’s name is @shashapinsky. Her photo shows a tanned brunette with a bright white grin wearing a tight, black tube top.
“Hey Ally! My name is ShaSha, I work for Vemarks Clothing out of Florida. I’m looking for models for a new line we’re selling and I think you have exactly the right look for us! I know this probably sounds a lot like a spam message but I swear it isn’t. If you’re interested, I’ll just need one full-body shot and your measurements and we can send you some free stuff. Lmk!”
You pause, unsure of what you should do. It sounds like messages from bots you’ve deleted in the past. But this one used your name. You can’t think of a downside to free clothing.
Is there any nefarious reason someone would want a photo of you? If you’re clothed, it seems safe.
You click on ShaSha’s page. She has numerous photos and they’re all of the same person. It does look like she’s in Florida since many shots are of her on the beach. The handle for @vemarks is in her bio, so you click on that, too. The page has an assortment of beachwear and 20,000 followers.
For a moment, you imagine what might happen if you take the offer. You had never considered modeling in the realm of possibilities for your future, but maybe this gig could get you noticed by bigger companies. You might get more offers and more followers and end up working as an influencer. Grad school be damned.
You shake your head. That’s not realistic. But getting free clothing sounds fun. It’s not like you have a large shopping budget.
The full-body shot makes you a little nervous. What if they decide they don’t want you once they’ve seen your proportions? You’re in pretty good shape, but your butt is too flat and your waist is too wide by social media standards.
Heart beating quickly, you go back to the message and reply.
“Hi ShaSha! That sounds super cool, thanks for the offer! Is there an email address I should send the photos to?”
Sixty-three likes on your selfie. Four comments.
***
Post 7: A photo of you wearing your first Vemarks outfit: Cutoff jean shorts and a red-and-white striped tank top. You paired the getup with your own white high-tops and a red scrunchie. You’re posed in front of a white fence with a big smile. You angled your body at seventy-five degrees and placed a hand on your waist.
You asked a woman walking her dog to take the picture. She was friendly and quite patient when you asked for a dozen different poses. “My daughter is always asking me to take photos of her,” she laughed.
It looks like you’re dressed for July 4th which is kind of funny since summer is about over. The outfit feels a little flimsy, you’re not sure it’s super high quality, but it doesn’t really matter since it was free. The whole thing would have been $45 plus shipping if you ordered it from Vemark’s online store.
After deciding to accept the offer, you emailed ShaSha a shot of you in leggings and a t-shirt taken in your room with your phone camera timer. “Perfect! You’re gorgeous!! What address?” she replied. The items arrived a week later.
“Love my new digs from @vemarks!” you caption the post with a heart-face emoji. #vemarks #style #fashion #goodlife #grateful #ambassador. You normally find hashtags a little cringy, but ShaSha asked you to use them to get more traction.
After you post, you look at tagged photos on the Vemarks page to see if you can find other models. There are a handful of posts from other girls that look your age. One is a thin, blonde girl in a similar tank top holding a strawberry ice cream cone with chocolate sprinkles. She has hundreds of followers on her page. You feel jealous at first, but when you inspect the photo more closely you realize her nose is too large and her aquamarine eyes are too close together. You would never observe that out loud, of course.
Fifty likes. One comment. “Cutie!” from a high school acquaintance.
***
Post 8: A latte with swan-shaped foam art. It cost $8 which is way more than you should be spending on coffee, but it looks great.
You’re sitting in a coffee shop on campus with Chloe, one of the graduate students who was the same year as you from a different university. She asked if you wanted to hang out and you said yes since she seems nice enough. You like her chunky necklaces and the way she pairs heeled boots with grey jeans. It gives off an artsy vibe, like she should have paint splattered on her pants and half-finished canvases waiting at home.
Her cappuccino has a little bear on it. She pulled out her phone to snap a photo too which made you feel less self-conscious.
“Aren’t they cute?” she squeals, brushing back a strand of ginger hair that escaped her braid. “I love this place.”
“Yeah, it’s super neat.” You take a sip which pulls the swan’s body out of shape.
She asks how you’re liking the university so far, and you say something about how busy everyone is.
“Right? Grad school is so stressful. Although, you’re not in school, right? Full-time research?”
“Yup, that’s right.”
“I sort of wish I had taken a research year. I’m still burnt out from college and high school so I dread my classes now, you know? Plus, I have to teach next semester and it’s just… ugh.”
You nod, not really sure what to say.
“Anyway, sorry, I’m talking way too much,” she giggles and takes a foamy sip of her drink. “It’s a little isolating, they don’t give grad students the same social support undergrads get. I’m guessing it’s similar for researchers, right?”
You agree.
You feel like you need to add something interesting to the conversation. If she keeps carrying it, she’ll decide you’re a bore.
“Have you gotten up to anything fun outside of school?” you ask.
“Not so much yet, but there’s a hiking area in the hills above campus. We could plan something together.”
She looks at you eagerly. You feel a swell of pride that she wants to hang out again. You’ve made a friend.
Conversation moves to undergraduate research. “I had a really great adviser,” Chloe says. “She pushed me sort of hard but she was an awesome mentor. It’s so helpful to have someone who believes in you.”
“Right.” You try not to look envious. You didn’t realize you were supposed to get involved in research until it was too late. You thought undergrad was about classes and grades but it seems like no one actually cares about those.
Forty likes. No comments.
***
Post 9: Another Vemarks outfit: a short, pink dress with spaghetti straps. It’s a little see-through and too tight. You wear a strapless, nude bra under it and decide to go with a selfie.
Once you snap the right shot — winking in front of a bright yellow wall — you head home to change. You might end up giving the dress away; it’s not very flattering. You caption the photo “always sunny in California.” #vemarks #sunny #happy
“Looking good!” comments ShaSha.
That’s a relief. Vemarks never posted your first photo on their wall and you’re a little worried that means they didn’t like it. It would be a bummer if your modeling career ended before it had really begun.
Fifty likes.
***
Post 10: A landscape shot of yellowing fields along a ridge from your hike with Chloe. A cloudless, robin-egg-sky meets the golden grass halfway up the image. “Happiest in nature,” you caption it with a tree emoji.
The weather is warm and sunny. The hike is too long, though. Six miles. Physically, you feel fine. But by the time you reach the summit of the hill, it becomes clear that you and Chloe don’t actually have that much in common.
She keeps talking about her college club lacrosse team (you don’t know anything about sports) and how a few of her teammates bought tickets to come next month (you wonder again if you should try calling your roommate even though she hasn’t reached out to you) and how they plan to take a weekend trip to go surfing because she grew up surfing (there were no waves in your frigid suburban hometown).
The hike started in a city park above campus. A winding, dusty path took you past algae-laden ponds and knobby buckeye trees and through fields spun with gold until you reached a lookout point with a stone bench.
From here you can see the whole city, all the way to the bay
Chloe grins and offers her hand for a high five when you make it to the bench. “Good work,” she says. “We got up that fast.”
“It wasn’t too steep,” you reply as you smack your palm against hers. “Just sort of hot. I should have brought more water.”
“Do you want some of mine? My bottle is still pretty full.”
“Oh, thanks, that’s okay.” You feel bad taking her water, but as soon as the words are out, you also feel bad refusing her gesture of kindness. Plus, you are thirsty. Your mouth feels dry and you know your throat will start to burn by the time you get down.
“Should we take a selfie?” you ask.
“Yeah!” she says, pulling out her phone.
You angle your faces so that the sun is behind the phone. She leans against your shoulder and you both smile as she snaps a few pictures.
“Great,” she says. “Let’s head back?”
“Could I see the photos first?” It’s an instinct; the urge to check pictures before you move on from taking them.
“Oh yeah, sure.”
She unlocks her phone and hands it to you. You look through the three photos, none of them any good. The sun lit up the soft, blonde hairs on your cheeks and chin. You worry people might think you look like you are sporting a beard. Your grey baseball cap covered the top half of your face in shade.
“Ah, could we actually take a few more?”
“Oh, totally.”
This time you take the cap off and pull out your own phone. Chloe stands close to you and you both grin.
But again, the photos are no good. This time your eyes are half-shut as you squint into the sun. Chloe has already started walking toward the trail to head down.
“Ah wait, sorry, can we take one more? I just really don’t like how I look in these.”
She looks back at you and bites her lip. “We already have a lot. Like, enough to remember the moment by. I think you looked cute in the ones on my phone.”
You feel embarrassed and nod, hurrying to join her. After that, you aren’t sure what to say. The small talk fizzles out on the way down and you finish the hike in silence.
“Thanks for coming with me,” she says when you get back to campus. “I’m going to go do some work in the lab but this was so fun. We should totally do it again soon.” She probably doesn’t mean it, you think, but you nod enthusiastically. She gives you a quick hug and then scurries off.
You watch her braid bobbing as she trots toward the lab.
You wonder whether you should have made a Sting reference for your caption instead of using a tree emoji. When you open the app, you notice a message in your inbox. It’s ShaSha.
“Hey girl, how’s it going?”
“Great!”
“Outfits working out?”
“Yes!”
“Awesome! We are so happy to have you as part of the family!”
You smile. ShaSha’s enthusiasm wipes away your worries about whether Chloe likes you. The lab isn’t your whole world; you can make friends outside of it.
“We just sent you a couple more things, you should get them this weekend. Looking forward to seeing how they look on you (they’ll look great obvi)!”
You heart react to the message.
Thirty likes. No comments.
***
Post 11: A full-body photo wearing a black romper from Vemarks. It feels slightly higher quality than the other pieces. You’ve paired it with sandals and a red scrunchie. In the photo, you’re doing a handstand against a brick wall and grinning wildly.
You asked a stranger, a young man in a beanie and Baja hoodie, to take the picture. He looked like a stoner so you assumed he didn’t have anywhere urgent to be, but he seemed pretty restless after fifteen shots. It pays off, though. You already have five likes in only a few minutes.
“Falling for Vemarks but hoping not to fall down haha,” you captioned it.
Again, ShaSha is immediately in your inbox. You’re surprised she’s working. It’s Saturday.
“Hey girl! How’s your weekend?”
“Pretty good! Gonna walk to campus and check out the art gallery.”
“Fun! Are you in college? Lots of our other girls are too.”
“No, I’ve graduated, I’m working in a lab at a university tho.”
“Omg so fun. You must be super smart I could never haha. Take photos of the art!”
“You know I will!”
Seventy likes. Three comments. All various heart and fire emojis from friends that you still haven’t called. Then again, none of them have called you either.
More importantly: the post is featured on Vemarks’ page a few hours after you post it.
***
Post 12: A campus rose bush filled with pink-and-white flowers that remind you of the peppermints your mom put out for guests when you were young. When you sucked on one, the red-and-white swirls would dissolve into each other forming bursts of pink blotches.
You don’t expect a ton of likes, but it’s a good excuse to use the caption “make sure you stop and smell the roses.”
Chloe has been perfectly friendly when you bump into her in the lab, but she hasn’t asked you to hang out again. You should probably reach out to her but you don’t want to deal with the embarrassment you’ll feel if she says no. She probably has lots of other grad students to socialize with anyway.
“Hey Ally!” messages ShaSha. You’ve started looking forward to her messages. She always seems to reach out when you post.
“Okay so I have some exciting news…. Most clothing companies don’t do this, but we are making it possible for some of our favorite models to invest in the company! You would become a co-owner and get to share your ideas for clothing styles and stuff like that.”
You swallow hard and feel your heart beat faster. This sounds off.
“Oh, cool!”
“So cool, right? It’s just $4000 to get in at the ground level and you can expect that share to double in just a couple months. Sales are really taking off and we’re expanding super-fast.”
Your eyes widen at the price. There’s no way you can swing it. “Oh that sounds great, but I don’t really have that much haha,” you send back with a crying face.
“Totally get it. You can also pay $2000 for a half share if you want. I can try to get another model to match with you.”
You don’t respond immediately.
“I pushed really hard for you to be one of the first girls included in this,” she writes. “I told my higher-ups I was sure you would be excited given your enthusiasm about the company!”
“Thanks!” is all you can think to reply.
“Np! I’ll send you a contract and the info for wiring money via email. The sooner you can get it to me the sooner I can get you in.”
You heart-react the message and close out of the app.
You’re not sure what to do. You aren’t that interested in being a businesswoman. Designing clothing could be sort of cool. Wiring money sounds sketchy and $2000 is still a huge amount to scrape together. But, it does look like the brand is growing. Every time you Google them, you get more hits.
It’s normal for start-ups to pay their employees in stocks or whatever, so maybe it makes sense that they would offer something like this to models. Plus, lawyers have to pay in to make partner at their firms.
Your sister is in the process of making partner now. You know that because your mom likes to bring it up when she calls, just to remind you of where you could be in a decade if you go to law school. “Maybe not getting into grad school was a sign that you’re meant for something else,” she suggested. You explained that it is normal for people not to get in their first round. There are few things you can imagine liking less than law school.
Everything has been legit so far with ShaSha. Maybe you should take this opportunity.
Twenty likes. No comments.
***
Post 12: A stack of pancakes with blueberries and syrup. You made them and plated them on a yellow dish.
You spent all night going back and forth about ShaSha’s offer and decided it’s too risky. You can’t afford to lose $2000 if the company fails. There are so many online brands now and you don’t know that much about the market. Besides, you barely have $300 in your checking account and it’s not like you have savings to draw on right now.
You decide to let ShaSha know you don’t want to become a business partner before she reaches out again. You’re nervous about how she’ll take it. You’ll feel bad if her bosses get mad at her.
“Hey ShaSha! Happy Sunday! Just wanted to let you know I can’t invest now. I really wish I could but I don’t have the money available.”
She writes back in minutes.
“Hey girl! No worries I get it! Let me know asap if you change your mind tho.”
You let out a sigh of relief. You weren’t sure what exactly you were afraid of, maybe that she would get mad or ghost you or something, but she’s being super cool about it. Of course she’s being cool, she’s a nice person. The only person who is consistently nice to you.
“Will do!”
You put down your phone and take a bite of the pancakes. Soft, buttery, and sweet. They taste even better than they look. Too late you realize that that would have been a perfect caption.
Twenty-five likes. No comments.
***
Post 13: Drinking a latte on a campus bench in jeans and a blue-checked blouse from Vemarks. Your hair is down around your shoulders and you’re gazing off into the distance instead of looking directly at the camera. You think you look like some sort of contemplative artist.
The guy who took the photo for you was cute. You were sort of hoping he would try and give you his number or something, but he just nodded and turned around when you thanked him.
ShaSha likes the photo immediately and comments with several raised hand emojis. Your online game is getting better. You have nearly a dozen new followers, although some of them are definitely bots.
You tried to find Chloe’s page, but she doesn’t seem to have an account.
The graduate students are planning a cabin retreat for next month. You’re not invited. It came up at the lab meeting today and Chloe shot you a sympathetic glance.
“I noticed you looked sort of sad about the cabin thing,” she said, coming up to you after. “It’s a department event — obviously if we were planning it you would be included.”
“Yeah, of course, I know that.”
“Okay cool, just wanted to make sure.”
She smiled at you and then walked off to ask the PI a question.
Fifty likes. No comments other than ShaSha’s.
***
Post 14: A painting of lilacs in a blue vase from the campus gallery. You don’t recognize the artist, but the impressionist piece has Monet vibes. When you saw the painting, you wondered whether you would be able to create something like it yourself.
You liked sketching in high school, but fell out of practice in college. It didn’t seem worth investing too much time into something so impractical when it was clear you weren’t especially talented. Now you’re scared to try again. You’re afraid whatever modicum of skill you had as a teenager evaporated.
Things aren’t going great at work. Every time you try to meet with the PI, she’s too busy for you. It takes three or four email bumps to get her to respond to anything you send her. You were finally able to set up a meeting this week, but she said she didn’t have any specific projects for you at this point. You’re worried that if you push harder, she’ll get annoyed and that’ll be the end of you getting a recommendation from her.
You’ve been thinking more about ShaSha’s offer. Maybe you’re too cautious. Maybe you should be embracing life and taking risks. It’s not every day that an opportunity like this drops into your lap.
You could ask your parents for money. They paid off their mortgage last year so they’re less pressed than when you were a kid. If Vemarks gets big you could pay them back with interest.
Before you close the app, you look at Vemarks’ tagged photos again. There are more this time. Dozens of young women in outfits like yours with big smiles and bright eyes. You wonder whether all of them are being offered the chance to buy-in, or if it’s really just the company’s favorite models.
Thirty likes. No comments.
***
Post 15: Sunset over the bay. You jogged three miles to get here at the right time for the shot, and it was worth it. Flashes of gold and orange in the sky are reflected in the frothing water below. You filter it to bring out warmer tones. It’s a beautiful photo.
You decide to text Chloe. The endorphins from your jog have put you in a positive mood. One bad hike shouldn’t be enough to totally deter you from making friends with her.
You called your roommate before your run but she didn’t pick up. It’s okay. She’s in medical school so she’s probably super busy.
“Hey Chloe! Was just wondering if you’re free to watch a movie or something sometime. There’s this new thriller out, but I think it’ll be too scary to go alone haha.”
Standing around waiting for a response is too nerve-wracking, so you put the phone on silent while you run home. Streetlights come on as the sky darkens above you. Your lungs are starting to burn, but you’re proud of yourself for running six miles in one day. If you keep this up, your legs will look great.
You arrive at your house sweaty and panting. You check your phone before opening the door. No messages from Chloe. You put the phone back down.
When you step inside you smell onions and garlic. One of your housemates is using the kitchen. You’ll have to settle for a microwaved meal tonight.
Thirty likes. No comments.
***
Post 16: A weekend selfie lying on your lawn. Your hair is in a halo around your face and you’ve managed to drum up a genuine smile with crinkled eyes and parted lips.
You check out the department’s page. It’s run by the administrative assistant and typically features flyers for talks or briefs on recent papers. Today there is a post about the grad student trip. You’ve already seen it, but you keep going back to analyze it.
The trip looks fun. In the first photo, students are grilling veggie burgers on a patio in front of a pine forest. Smoke rises off the grill and into the sunny sky above. When you swipe three photos in, you see Chloe and another student posing on a mountain peak with huge smiles. An emerald green, forested valley dotted with lakes spreads across the land behind them. Chloe looks happier than she did on your hike.
You put down your phone and pick up the novel you bought from a used bookstore near campus. It’s just a silly mystery book, but you need something interesting to talk about next time you get coffee with someone.
Sixty-four likes. Two comments. “Beautiful girly!” from ShaSha and “Awww cutie” from a high school friend.
***
Post 17: A waffle cone stacked high with scoops of chocolate and pistachio. Your nails are manicured with lapis polish and finished with tiny, ice-blue rhinestones. You painted them yourself on your porch and are proud with how they turned out. You managed to get a wall painted with hummingbirds in the streetscape background of the photo. The wall is blurry, but the colors of the street art come through anyway.
You normally try not to eat too many desserts, especially now that you’re modeling, but you decide to get a treat to celebrate your decision to invest in Vemarks.
You looked over the contract ShaSha sent again and have decided it’s a good idea. You’re guaranteed to get 50% back no matter what, so even if the company crashes and burns they are legally obligated to refund you $1000. It’s FDIC insured, according to ShaSha.
A paycheck just arrived. You will put the full $1500 toward the investment. It means this month’s rent will put you in the red, but you should be able to scrape by over the next couple months until you get returns. You won’t go out for coffee and you’ll live off discount section produce. You had to ask your parents for the remaining $500 . You told your mom that you needed a new bike to get to work. If she knew about the investment, she wouldn’t go for it. She would say it was too risky, and she’d probably get on your case about wasting time online.
You tried to ask for the money over text but she called you immediately.
“What happened to the bike you had before?” she wanted to know.
“Oh, it got stolen.” You cringed at the lie.
“Weren’t you locking it up?”
“I was. They cut the lock.”
“I hope you have a better lock for this one. Did you get a better lock this time?”
“Yes, I did. Thanks, Mom, for the money. I know it was kind of a lot.”
“It’s okay, honey. Did you buy a nightlight for the bike? You have a helmet, right? Are you wearing your helmet?”
“Yes, I wear the helmet.”
“Alright. Well, I hope everything is going well with your lab.”
“It is.”
Part of you wanted to send the contract to your sister to get her thoughts on it, but you chickened out. She already thinks you care too much about social media. If you tell her you’re modeling clothes she’ll tell you to spend less time taking selfies and more time reading papers.
After getting the right angle for your photo, you finally try the ice cream. Cold, sweet, delicious. You swallow and try not to think about how many calories are in the cone.
Then you open the app to let ShaSha know you’ll be wiring the money tonight.
***
Post 18: A pencil drawing of a stretching tabby cat with its back sloping toward the ground. It’s the first thing you have created in years. You found a picture online to use as a model. You left the paws as featureless little nubs since adding the cat’s splayed toes proved too difficult. But you were able to get the eyes, nose, and whiskers just right. You still have it.
“Love!” comments ShaSha with a fire emoji. “Beautiful and talented!”
ShaSha was thrilled when you told her you wanted to invest. “This is a great decision! You got in just in time. You’re going to be happy you took the leap,” she wrote. The money transfer went through, so now there’s nothing to do but wait and see if the investment pans out. If it goes well, maybe you’ll buy more shares in the future.
If you improve your drawing skills, you might try sending some fashion ideas to ShaSha. The thought of designing clothing makes you even more excited than the prospect of modeling.
Your phone buzzes. It’s a text from Chloe.
“Hey!!! So sorry, I totally forgot to respond to this, was super busy with the trip. Is your movie still in theatres? Would be down to see it!”
You don’t respond. She put you off for a week. You don’t want to seem like you’ve just been waiting around for her. You put your phone down and feel that, for once, you’re the one in control.
Thirty-five likes. Three comments. “Yay, back at it!” from a classmate you took art with in high school, and another heart from your roommate.
***
Post 19: A mirror selfie in a dark blue crop-top and white shorts from Vemarks. Your hair is in pigtails and your feet are bare. You tilt your head slightly to the side and smile cheerfully.
You wonder what ShaSha will think of the picture. You can’t decide if the look is sexy or just a little immature.
No response from her comes in after you post it. Five minutes go by, and then ten. Your roommate comments on the photo with a heart.
Now that you’re thinking about it, you haven’t heard from ShaSha in a few days. You decide to check her page to see what she’s been up to lately. Maybe she got overwhelmed with the business’ expansion.
You type her name into the search bar, but her page doesn’t show up. You tell yourself she probably just changed her handle, but when you go to your messages, her avatar has been deleted. You sink slowly onto your bed.
Shaking slightly, you follow your own photo tags to the Vemarks page.
It’s gone too.
Maybe the company got into some sort of licensing trouble with the app, you think. You hope that’s not it, because you’re not sure how the brand will keep growing without its social presence.
A voice at the back of your mind whispers to you that the page is gone and your money with it, but you ignore it. Instead, you Google Vemarks. Its homepage comes up in your search results, but when you click it the page is down.
A string of swear words races through your mind. You set your phone down in your lap and wonder what to do next. You briefly consider trying to find more Vemarks models. They would know what happened, right? Some of them must be investors too.
Then you shake your head. You’re overreacting. No need to go causing trouble with the other models. Something must be wrong with the company’s WiFi today. They’ll be back online soon. You don’t want to do anything that will make ShaSha think you’re paranoid, or that you don’t trust her.
You should put your phone down and go for a walk to kill time while this gets sorted out.
You don’t put your phone down. Instead, you watch your screen as the likes on your selfie come in, one after another.
About the author
Sara Tabin is an English teacher currently residing in Boston. Her fiction has previously appeared in Rathalla Review and Scarlet Leaf Review. She has also written for USA Today, Forbes, The Salt Lake Tribune, The Utah Investigative Journalism Project, and other publications as a journalist. She loves hiking and her best friend's dog.
about the artist
Gaby Bedetti is a photographer, writer, teacher, and translator working in Lexington, Kentucky. Her work has appeared in Rhino, Puerto del Sol, World Literature Today, and other journals. She is circulating a co-translation of the poems of Henri Meschonnic, a writer who believed in language’s ability to dissolve borders. Visit her at https://gabriellabedetti.wordpress.com/.