Reel (Hollywood Renaissance #1)

by Kennedy Ryan

When there is no joy to be found, we have the power in our hands, the will of our souls, to make it.’”

Mama used to say, Who wants normal? Extraordinary wants no parts of normal.

“It feels like I’m losing everything. Don’t take this from me, too.”

“Can you just…” She pauses, her voice breaking on a sob. “Can you just let me be sad? Can you just let it hurt? I don’t need you to tell me why it shouldn’t, or that it will be okay. I just want to not fight for a minute. Can you be here for me, with me, while I stop fighting and let myself feel this? I promise I’ll get back up, but for just a minute, let me fall.”

“He did love you.” Terry’s bitter laugh sounds like it hurts. “Everyone did.” “So you decided to take everyone away from me? Or was that just an added bonus?” “Nobody told your ass not to come home.” “And look at you with him? Look at Quianna, knowing she was the result of you betraying me? The first time I saw her, I had to lock myself in my old room I was crying so hard. Not because she was a reminder, but because she was so beautiful.” Tears spring to my eyes and I bite my lip to keep it from trembling. “She looked just like you, and I was angry I couldn’t just love her, just be her auntie without all of this between us.” “You can,” Terry says more softly. “She barely knows you, but she wants to be just like you. She’s in every school play. Sings like she breathes.” “Reminds us all of you,” Mama adds, smiling and sitting back down to pick up her knitting. “She does?” I ask weakly. “I told her I was coming out here about your kidney and she wanted to come, but she has exams,” Terry says. “We, um, haven’t been getting along lately. Not since she found out why you never come home.” I recall her stricken expression, her anger in the kitchen when she overheard us arguing. “I’m sorry she had to find out that way,” I say. “So she never knew about Brandon and me?” “What was I supposed to say? I stole your daddy? I almost got rid of you because I didn’t want to lose my sis…” She doesn’t finish the thought, but I can see how saying even part of it affects her. Her lips tremble an...

Every day that ends with me still breathing has ended well.

“Tomorrow,”

“is the most presumptuous word in the world, because who knows if you even get that. Yesterday, spilled milk and old news. You can’t do nothing about how you messed up or fell short or didn’t do yesterday. Even when you mess up and make it right, it has to be done today.”

The only thing you can do with today is make it count, because soon it will be tomorrow. And I already told you about them tomorrows. Better todays make better tomorrows, and if you don’t get tomorrow, at least you had today.”

“This body is a shell,”

“No matter how beautiful or what size or how healthy, every single body inevitably

returns to dust. It is not your legacy. It is not what ...

Every single one of us is in that race, and a race against time is one you’ll never win.

But how will you run? It’s not an existential question of immortality, of living forever, but a challenge of numbered days and what we do with what we have. It’s not a string of todays that become yesterdays and aspire to tomorrow, but living like there is no guarantee. Living with an urgency to say what needs to be said, do what needs

to be done. To no matter what, live with what you’ll lea...

“Is that why you look at me the same way no matter how my appearance changes?” He studies me for long, silent seconds. “No, baby.” He caresses my cheek with his thumb, smiling into my eyes. “That’s just love.”

trust, I hope, that they will fade in time, but I must accept who and how I am right now. Today.

And that’s what I’d like to call this documentary when it’s done. It’s the lesson of seizing this existence with both hands; of not letting anything stand in your way; of living with as few regrets as possible.

Life is indiscriminately seasoned, usually not sweet without some bitter.

making this life taste like eternity.