The Space In Between(9)

Uncle Wayne made twist-on caps for beer and soda cans that kept one’s drink safely covered during outings to sporting events, parks, picnics, or whatever the hell people did outside. Needed to be outside? Uncle Wayne had a cap for that. They came in different colors. Some kept items chilled, some had inserts for straws, and let me be the first to say I had no clue why the hell people would buy them.
But my uncle had somehow hit it big, and he wasn’t afraid to live large. Therefore, they could have any experienced photographer at their holiday party, and the fact that they wanted me was kind of a compliment. But I hadn’t really spoken to them since the accident with my parents…
Kyle swiped a few fries from my plate. “I see you got your shoestrings back.” He laughed unnecessarily loud at his stupid joke. I chose to ignore the comment. He continued asking questions about my last few months spent in a mental clinic to ‘regroup.’ “Come on. Tell me what it was like there. Was it like that one movie with Jack Nicholson? One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest?”
“Fuck you, ass. It turned out to be a nice place. There were actually a lot of nice people there. I met Jesus.”
He choked on the water trying to go down his throat. I got a laugh out of that. “Excuse me. What?”
I looked at him as if he were crazed. “You know, Jesus? Jesus Christ? Really down to earth guy. Deep, too.” I pulled out the stress ball in my pocket and showed it to Kyle. “He actually gave me this to help me deal with my issues.”
Kyle was becoming uncomfortable as I watched him shift around in his chair. It wasn’t surprising—anything that wasn’t money or sex made Kyle uncomfortable. “We should really talk about the next steps for you. How to rebuild your image after this small mishap.”
I agreed 100%. I emailed him earlier with a road map of what I wanted to do. He hadn’t mentioned anything about it, so I figured I should bring it up. “What do you think of my idea?”
“I think it's f*cking ridiculous. That's what you get for being around other crazies for so long.” After spending time in the clinic, Kyle assumed my new idea was the wacky medicines wearing off. “So as I said before, we should talk about the next steps.”
I informed him I didn’t want to talk about his next steps for me, but he didn’t care. “Cooper, you are at the top of your career! This little slip up isn’t stopping people from wanting to work with you! BIG people! Our type of people! You make millions each year, and there’s no reason for that to change.”
I didn’t care about the damn money. There was a time when I’d taken photographs out of pure love for it. Kyle should have known that—he had known me since we were kids. “It's not about the money. That's not why I do it. Well, that's why I did it before with Iris, but that's not why I want to do it now.”
Kyle smirked. “Did Jesus tell you to say that?”
I couldn’t get him to understand where I was coming from, but I was determined to try. “Shut up, I do it for…” I gestured to the front window. “Look.” We stared out the window and watched the life experience from the restaurant. There was a couple running, holding hands to get into a taxi. There was a man hollering at someone, probably a poor intern, on his cell phone. Three extremely attractive girls in high end fashion walked by, laughing with each other. An overwhelming level of excitement filled my gut as I realized that now Kyle would be able to understand what I was trying to get at.
“See? Everyone has a story. The couple holding the taxi, the angry man on the phone, the happy fashion girls. The guy…” I stared out the window with a glimpse of disgust as I looked at a guy by the stop sign. “The guy licking the stop sign. Emotion. All kinds. Not just the happy 'wedding day' kind. That's what I want to capture on film. Real life. It's not all cake and first dances.”
Kyle nodded. “Iris really f*cked you up.”
“Why can't I want to do something different?”
“Because different makes you the guy raping the stop sign. Listen, I get it. You and Iris were a duo team. Husband and wife. Iris, a top notch wedding planner. You, a top notch photographer. Your own show. So what?” Kyle picked up his phone and started scrolling through his emails, once again only half-paying attention.
“You’re not listening, Ky.”
He wasn’t.
Kyle kept staring at his cell phone and shook his head. He went to text someone. “It's my f*ckin’ job to listen to you, Coop. And okay, you ended up in the funny farm for a few weeks. Big deal. What famous person hasn't taken a va-ca to the world of crazy? Look. The magazines are going mad. Neither you nor Iris is doing any interviews, and if you get out there first, POW! It will be spun in your favor. You know she's cooking up some nasty story. She always was a media whore.”
“Are you deaf?”
Kyle put down his phone and looked to me. His demeanor grew serious, something that didn’t happen often. “I know you’ve been through a lot this year. And I heard about the kid…”
“Don't.”
“Coop, I'm sorry. I know how long y’all had been trying, and for her to pull that kind of shit…”
I shifted my eyes to my plate and went about eating my food. I didn’t want to think about Iris or anything dealing with her.
Kyle’s phone went off as he received a text message. After he viewed it, he shifted from serious to extremely giddy. He turned back to me and I could tell by the smirk in his eyes that he was about to say something stupid. “Guess what you’re doing tonight?” I patiently waited to hear my crazy manager’s plans. Kyle moved around with excitement as if it was Christmas morning. “You’re going to a strip club!”My friend sat at the table, trying to force feed his ‘brilliant’ idea to me. It wasn’t working. “Don't you see? This is what you need. A good lap dance, and maybe a nice one-night stand if you’re lucky.”