Chapter Five
Dani
Kelsie and her cousins, Rafferty and Raithnait (pronounced “Ronna”), posed together in front of a white background. A pang hit me as I watched them, and I nudged Una, who was sitting on the couch next to me, flipping through a magazine—The Wackernagelian.
“What’s up?” She glanced over at me.
I nodded toward the kids. “Look at them, all grown up.” We’d done one of these photo shoots back when the twins were one and Kelsie was about four. They’d all worn matching sailor suits back then. Today Rafferty, who gave off an old-timey British rock star vibe, was wearing a green velvet suit coat over skinny pants. Raithnait had on a skirt that allowed full view of her long, coltish legs, and Kelsie, who was going through something reminiscent of my grunge phase, was wearing a flowery dress and leather booties. We’d gotten them all together today to take a picture for my parents for Christmas, and each of their individual personalities was on full display.
Fred, the photographer, who had been taking Una’s yoga classes at the resort, kept posing the kids in new formations, yanking the phones out of their hands whenever necessary.
He had it under control.
I opened a book I’d brought along, the first volume in M.C. Bradford’s The Bastyan Saga. Out of curiosity, I’d picked it up at the bookstore in town. I never, ever read fantasy, but I was having a hard time putting this book down. Matt was really talented.
I got about a half a page in when Una said, “We need to talk about your Instagram.”
Marking my page with one finger, I closed the book. “I don’t have an Instagram.”
“Not yet, you don’t,” Una said, “but you’re making beautiful food at your job right now, and you’re squandering an opportunity to share it with the world.”
There was that word again: opportunity. “I think I’m handling the opportunity just fine. My boss is pleased with my work.” This morning when I came in, he’d left me a note down in the kitchen praising the soup I’d made him the day before. I’d folded it and put it in my wallet.
“He’s just one person, though.” Una closed the magazine and placed it on the seat next to her. “And, like you said, the job only lasts through the holidays.”
“Right.”
“So, Instagram is your future.”
I considered this as I watched Raithnait attempt to yank her skirt down a few inches, as instructed by Fred. “I’m not even on Facebook,” I told her.
She waved that off. “Facebook is done. For the moment anyway, Instagram isn’t.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a future, then,” I joked.
Una looked at me, deadly serious. “That’s not funny. Social media has launched the careers of millions of small business owners, including yours truly.”
Kelsie flopped onto the couch next to me. “What’s up? Why is Auntie Una giving you a death stare?”
“I’m trying to tell her that Instagram can help her build her brand, but she won’t hear of it,” Una said.
“Ah.” Kelsie picked at a hangnail. “I think you’re fighting a losing battle here.”
“Dani, you need to adapt with the times.”
“That’s what I’ve tried to tell her,” Kelsie said.
“It’s just not me,” I said, pretending to type away on a phantom phone. “I’m not someone who needs to document their entire existence for the world to see.”
“Not your entire existence,” Una said, “your professional one. It’s for the good of your business. Without an online presence, you effectively don’t exist.”
I flipped my hands over and examined them. “But what does it mean that I can see myself? Am I a ghost?” I glanced at Kelsie, hoping she’d join me in poking fun at all this nonsense.
“Auntie Una’s right,” she said. “I know you think it’s part of your identity that you’re so technologically inept and you wear it as a badge of honor, but it’s mostly just sad.”
I bugged my eyes at my daughter, who needed to learn not to blurt out the first thing that came to her mind. What was college teaching her, anyway? “Excuse me?”
“Mom,” Kelsie patted my hand as if I were a small, pathetic child, “Nana and Pop are better at this stuff than you are.”
“So?”
She winced. “They’re in their seventies. That’s all I’m saying.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know how to use the internet. Heck, I signed up for one of those job search apps.” Though, yes, I’d needed Kelsie to help me upload my résumé. I turned my attention back to Una. “Okay, if I were to start posting on Instagram, what would that even do for me? I don’t have any friends or people looking at my stuff…”
“Followers.” Kelsie tapped away on her own phone.
“I don’t even know the lingo,” I said. “How is this anything more than a time waster?”
“You know me.” Una smiled. “You have a leg up on other people because I have a large following, and I’d be more than happy to send the Unites your way.”
Una meant that as a positive thing, but it only stressed me out to think that my posts would be seen by actual scores of people. “I have to think about this.”
“Of course,” Una said. “Think about it, and we can work on setting up your account later tonight.”
“That wasn’t what I—”
But then Fred came over and handed Una a flash drive with the proofs from today. “We have a few minutes. Do you ladies want to pose for some pictures?”
Una stood and grabbed my hands, pulling me up. “Yes!” she said. “My sister-in-law, Dani, here is embarking on her journey as a professional foodie, and she needs a profile pic.”
“Una, I’m not embarking on anything, and besides, I’m not picture ready.” I was wearing an old sweater and no makeup beyond a tinted moisturizer. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be on the internet at all, but I knew I didn’t want to be on the internet looking like a haggard troll.
“You look great!” Una said.
“You do.” Fred pointed to my face. “And we can airbrush all of that out.”
I touched my cheeks, wondering what “all of that” meant.
“I just mean,” Fred said, “that I can touch up anything you want, but only if you want.” He grinned. “The magic of technology.”