A Snapshot of Dixie

36: Limitless Lies

DIXIE

"Ultimately — or at the limit — in order to see a photograph well, it is best to look away or close your eyes."

Reading a passage from the book Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography by Roland Barthes, I exit the library and continue reading further.

The way this author portrays photography is phenomenal! Everything he says is exactly how I feel when I take or look at my photos but it's one of those things that I'm never quite certain others can see.

For example, a photograph is a sliver of a moment in time. It's a memory that you want to save and one that can never be repeated. There's only one shot to capture a memory before it becomes our past. Does everyone feel that way or do they just take pictures to simply document things?

"Dixie Mae! Where have you been? I've been trying to call you." Hurley's voice forces me to break up my inquisitive thoughts and peek over the book pages.

Seeing that he's with a few of the guys from the football team, I close my book and offer the quartet of men a friendly smile.

"Hey, guys! Sorry, Hurley, my dad popped by for a surprise visit so I've been showing him around. He went to take a quick nap so I thought I would check out this book that Professor Olson told me about. Have you read it? It's fantastic so far!"

"Your dad? Is everything okay? I heard about what happened last night. I was really worried, Dixie." Hurley gazes at me, worry laced into his brown eyes.

"No shit. Your boy here put a damper on our victory celebration by constantly fretting about how you were doing, Dixie Mae. I tell ya if you didn't have the heart of Tucker James I think this dope would be in the running for claiming that spot." One of his friends chimed in, causing Hurley's cheeks to turn a shade of pink.

Reaching out to touch Hurley's arm, I smile, feeling lucky to have met such a wonderful friend in my short time here.

"That's sweet, Hurley, but I'm fine and if you don't mind, I really would like to keep it at that." I try to whisper that last part so he doesn't ask me a billion questions in front of everyone. Not having any answers myself, I don't feel equipped enough to explain my crazy Friday night to anyone else.

Hurley shoots me a questioning look, but his eyes soon soften. "Alright, but if something is bothering you just know I'm here for you, alright?"

"I appreciate that. Thank you. Congrats on the game by the way. I have your jersey in my dorm. I'm on my way back there if you want to grab it?"

"Yeah sure. I'll catch up with you guys later." Hurley nudges his head toward his teammates and slings his arm around my shoulder.

Seeing the uncomfortable look on his face as the guy's whistle and catcall behind us makes me feel bad for Hurley. It's hard enough being a young adult and trying to navigate the struggles of relationships but to have this secret hanging over your head? It's gotta be so tough for him.

"So I'm guessing writing your 2000-word essay on what inspires you for Mister Olson's class is on the agenda for today?" Hurley asks, shaking my thoughts.

"I was going to try and get a jump start on it. Have you started yours?" I ask, walking with Hurley under the mid-afternoon sky. Random colored leaves of reds, oranges, and yellows float across the sidewalk with the light breeze.

"Not yet, but I have a few solid notes written down. I was going to head to the museum later to pick up the photos that I had displayed there last week."

"What, why? Didn't you just bring them there?" I ask, recalling that's where he was headed on the day we met.

"Yeah, but every week they showcase a new aspiring photographer and it looks like you're up next, Dixie Mae. That's why it's incredible Mister Olson asked you after only a week of classes. He must see something pretty special in your work."