Page 4 of Mutual Discord

I was yanked from my thoughts when my phone screen flashed with a text from Caitlin. We hadn’t spoken in several weeks, aside from some silly memes we sent back and forth. She had been in Europe for a brand trip, and she’d promised she would text me once she was stateside again. Her schedule was chaotic at best, with her work as a luxury brand influencer taking her all over the world, and her following across social media put mine to shame. A reoccurring fear struck me anew: What if Caitlin did stumble across my TikToks? I wasn’t ashamed of the content I was creating, but social media had always been Caitlin’s thing, and I had purposely not told her of my new venture. I was sure she could give me tips to grow my account, but I was worried that if I took that step, I would be acknowledging that content creation was my new job, and I wasn’t ready for that yet.

Clicking open her message, I read:

Caitlin: Back in NY and just got to my place. I’m taking a sleeping pill and crashing, but I wanted you to know I’ll be in Phoenix in two weeks. August 12th. I miss you!

Sofia: I miss you too! If it wasn’t for Instagram, I wouldn’t even remember what you looked like.

Caitlin:

Caitlin: I was going to bring some skin care samples, but I don’t have to…

Sofia: oh shut up. You know I love you.

Sofia: and your samples.

Caitlin: My samples and I love you too. Good night

Sofia: Dormir bien

It had been six months since I’d last seen Caitlin. I had flown to Nashville to meet with clients for Desert Media 360, and Caitlin had been there to attend a brand party at some high-end boutique. We’d spent two days eating and drinking our way through the city. I didn’t see my college bestie much these days, but we immediately fell into the comfortable rhythm of our friendship whenever we were together. Caitlin was witty and smart, and when you chatted with her, she made you feel like you were the only person in the room. I was excited to see her when she was in town…and maybe I would work up the courage to tell her about my TikToks.

Swiping out of the text app, I stared at my phone for a long moment. Just thinking of telling Caitlin about the Matildas turned my thoughts to TikTok again, and I gritted my teeth in frustration. Grabbing my bag, I locked up and drove the ten minutes to the gym. I would have preferred a grueling hike on one of the many trails around the valley, but late July in Phoenix was a dangerous time to be outdoors. So to the gym with its pleasant air-conditioning I went, and after a series of stretches, I slipped on my headphones, selected a reggaeton playlist on my phone, and changed the incline on the treadmill. For the next thirty minutes, I let the burn in my legs and the tightness in my lungs help me sort out how I envisioned developing the Matildas and whether it left room for follower collaborations.

You can do whatever you want, Sofia, I grumbled mentally to myself. But your followers are the reason you get a paycheck, so don’t you think you should keep them happy? The other part of my brain argued back, most unhelpfully.

When I returned home, sweaty and exhausted, I jumped into the shower for a quick wash. Afterward, I pointedly ignored my phone and wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a can of sparkling water from the refrigerator. As I poured it into a glass, I propped my hip against the countertop and realized that while I didn’t want to share my platform with anyone, would it truly hurt to have a onetime conversation with a follower? Especially a popular follower like User16892? Plenty of content creators made a large portion of their money by doing regular TikTok LIVEs, but I had never been interested in them. In my mind, the Matildas series was educational, although I also tried to make it entertaining, and I didn’t like the idea of discussing the treatment these women received while also fending off troll comments. I had a brand to uphold: a sharp, clever, feminist take on female historical figures who were denied the respect and recognition they deserved during their lifetimes. Surely hosting a LIVE would clash with that mission?

Biting my lip, I clicked on User16892’s profile. He hadn’t created any posts, and his bio read simply, “Yes, I’m judging your grammar. Do good-er.” A snort slipped out before I could contain it. This wasn’t the first time I had clicked on User16892’s profile, but his silly bio made me laugh every time. And that made me frown. He could be literally anyone. A serial killer. An animal abuser. An insurrectionist. I knew absolutely nothing about User16892, and while his comments made me laugh, I certainly didn’t owe him anything.

With that newfound resolution fusing my spine, I turned to gather ingredients from the refrigerator to make dinner. This would all blow over, and I would continue to create my Matildas content until it did.

—

Things didn’t blow over, though.

For more than a week, I ignored the spattering of comments from a small but vocal contingent of my followers asking for a LIVE with User16892. When he posted a snappy response on my video about Marie Tharp, the geologist and cartographer whose maps of the ocean floor helped discover plate tectonics, the calls for a LIVE peppered the comment section. Despite my annoyance, I kept my metaphorical head down and focused on my work. My analytics continued to be great, and I should have felt optimistic about my monthly outlook.

But like a dog with a bone, the requests didn’t stop. It was fucking aggravating.

Yet it wasn’t until I saw User16892’s reply to one such demanding comment that I felt myself start to relent. It was a short reply, but it did much to tamper the irritation I felt.

Why are you all pressuring @SLikeTheSun to do a live with me when she’s kicking ass all on her own? She’s the one doing all the hard work, and I just shitpost in her comment sections.

It felt good to have someone echo my own thoughts about the subject, and it was almost ironic that it was made by the very person at the center of this nonsense crusade with me.

Just do it, Sofia, I told myself as I sat in the shade on the patio at the panadería, an iced latte in hand. It was nine in the morning and the temperature was already in the high nineties, yet I needed fresh air to clear my head. I debated texting Denise to invite her to join me just to procrastinate, but I resisted the urge. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, I needed to do it.

Opening TikTok, I clicked on User16892’s profile and then hit the direct message button. On the blank message page, I began to type.

Hi! Hopefully it’s not too weird to see me in your DMs, but I was hoping we could chat about the incessant demands for us to do a live together. Considering you’re pretty anonymous on here (on purpose, I’m sure), this wasn’t something I even considered. But oof, some people are determined! Is this something you would be interested in doing?

Before I could think more about it, I hit the send button and then tossed my phone in my bag like it was a live grenade. If I was lucky, User16892 wouldn’t be interested in doing a LIVE with me, and I would find a polite way to tell people to knock it the hell off. Swallowing a large mouthful of coffee, I wiped the corners of my mouth with my fingertips, closed my eyes, and tipped my head back, letting the anxiety roll off me. I’d done the hard thing, and now I could relax.

My phone pinged.

“Argh,” I groaned, covering my face with my hand. Surely he hadn’t replied already.

I snatched up my phone and sat ramrod straight, my eyes fixed on a bird feeder hanging from a bough of a mesquite tree near the courtyard in the center of the shopping plaza. A pair of mourning doves and a few sparrows sat on the feeder’s perches, happily eating seeds and completely unconcerned with the chaos of the world around them. I, too, wanted to be completely unconcerned with the chaos of my own life. Instead, my heart was threatening to pound out of my chest.