by Deena Remiel
The greatest you’ve ever worked with? That’s because every time you objected to something, which was every freakin’ shot, I had to comply with your wishes, as per my supervisor’s directive, you immature brat. Or, I could’ve ignored you and lost my job.
“Any time! Good luck with your next job. See you around.” She flashed a courteous grin, calculating how fast she could get out of there. As she packed up her gear, she heard a racket from the makeshift dressing room. She laughed and shook her head. It never ended! With her bags and lighting safely stowed, she hopped in her SUV and shoved off. In her rearview mirror she watched as Carter and Cassandra ambled out of the dressing room a bit mussed and arm in arm. The tabloids were gonna have a field day with the latest development.
Back in her motel room, with a poor excuse for takeout pizza resting on the bed and a cold beer on the bedside table, Willow rested her weary bones and closed her eyes. It wasn’t that she was tired from the day’s work. She was exhausted from all the bullshit she’d had to put up with since landing this gig. When she’d first started in the fashion photography business, she didn’t notice all the nuances of relationships and political power plays. That was four years ago. Now, at twenty-eight, she was burned out and ready to give it all up. Admittedly, her life was deep in the crapper, and she struggled with how to crawl out. If she had to bartend to make ends meet, she would.
She sat up tall, her hooded eyes snapped wide open, her brain, instantly alert with equal parts excitement and horror. “I do believe…I’ve decided…I might be done with this bullshit career.” The thrill of a possible change set her heart racing and mind on full-tilt. What exactly am I saying here? “Whoa, whoa, whoa, my dear, let’s not make any rash decisions. Sleep on it. Take a break. You’re due for a vacation anyway. See how you feel when you return. Right? Right.” The fashion industry, with all its plastic models and phony, two-faced people would still be there when she returned. If she returned.
She chomped down on a doughy slice and took a long draw of beer. Yeah, that decision sat well with her. There was nothing pressing at home in California. No animals to look after. Her parents were traipsing through Africa for the year, and her brother and sister were workaholics. No jobs coming up for her until next month. It was the perfect opportunity to go off the grid, relax, reevaluate her life, and nurture her passion by taking as many pictures as she wanted of nature.
She leaped off the bed and grabbed her laptop to search for places to camp. She’d had enough of North Dakota, so she went south with her search. South Dakota had the Black Hills National Forest. They had campgrounds where she could pitch a tent or set up an RV. Within the hour, she had reservations for four weeks starting the next day. Now all she needed was the equipment and gear to set up her home away from home. She’d pick them all up, along with the pull-along pop-up camper, once across the state line at an RV rental center.
Camping and hiking were second nature to her. She’d done all sorts with her family for years from tent to camper, even survivalist style. She picked off a piece of pepperoni from the last slice. As she popped it into her mouth, she recalled a fond childhood memory, when they attempted to make pizza over a campfire. Her parents had their moments of coolness. Not many, but a few. Once they and her siblings scattered across the fifty states and explored more urban pursuits, she still had the rugged bug deep inside her and managed to continue camping on her own, but never for this long. This is gonna be one hell of an adventure!
The next morning, she awoke with the sun and got an early start on her trek to the other Dakota. A stop at the local Laundromat gave her time to eat some breakfast with Harry first.
“You’re really doing this?”
“Yes, I really am.” She folded a piece of bacon into her mouth, talking as she chewed. “It’s no big deal. I’m a longtime hardcore camper, my friend.”
“But for a month? You’re a strange bird.”
“Honestly, I’ve never camped for this long, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll be taking as many pictures of those dang birds as I want, by the way. And elk and rabbits and trees and insects and….”
“I get it. I get it! You want to be one with nature.”
“No, I just want to take pictures of it. I don’t mind living beside nature, though. It’s a far cry from those neurotic, infantile people we have to deal with day in and day out. Harry, I gotta do this or I’ll lose my soul. It’s practically gone as it is. I barely recognize who I am anymore.”
He reached out a hand to cover hers and squeezed. “So, do you need me to do anything while you’re Grizzly Willow?”
She rolled her eyes. “Actually, yes. Just one thing. Can you mail this rent check out for me on the date I wrote on the envelope? I don’t think I’ll be anywhere near a post office.”
“Sure, no problem.”
She tapped her napkin against her lips and placed it on the remains of her pancakes. “Well, I gotta run. Laundry’s probably done, and they’re the only clothes I have.”
They stood at the same time and hugged hard. She didn’t have close friends. Who did in the fashion industry? But Harry was as close as she’d get. “Listen, if you need anything, call me. Don’t let your phone’s battery run out. You hear me?” She nodded. “And if it gets too much, haul your ass home.”
“Got it. Thanks so much for everything, Harry. You’re the only real person I know in this crazy, effed-up business. Promise you’ll remember to keep it real. All right?”
“Promise.” One last hug and she left him to finish his coffee.
Clothes were scorched dry and ready for folding. She placed them right into her suitcase, zipped it up, and called the RV place where she reserved the latest model of a small pop-up camper equipped with a sink and a double-burner stove. She’d be living in style in the Black Hills of South Dakota!
