Facebook: Society and Identity

Eleanor sat at her desk, her nose just inches away from the screen, her fingers clicking quickly as she cropped and adjusted the light and gradient of the photograph in front of her. Finally! Perfect.

She sat back to admire her handiwork. The couple staring back at her looked so happy. Their smiles were wide and their faces were animated. The truth is, she and Richard hadn’t laughed together like that in months. Ever since the miscarriage, they hardly even made eye contact. But that night, the night this photograph was taken, they were at the wedding of a close friend and the best-mans speech was funny. They had both laughed and at the same exact moment that someone at the table had snapped a shot.

Eleanor took a deep breath and let the reality of her and Richards situation fade away as the image on the screen sprung to life. She logged on to Facebook and navigated her profile to the photo uploading section. She clicked a few more times and then the blue bar popped onto the screen, showing that the photo was indeed making its way to the Internet.

98%, 99%, 100%. Done!

She picked up her cup of coffee and headed for the kitchen. The smell was strong and filled her with a caffeine fix before the rich brown liquid had even been poured into her cup. She filled it to the rim, tightened up her bathrobe and headed to the refrigerator to make some breakfast. Eleanor took out the ingredients for omelets. He’ll probably leave without wanting any breakfast, she thought. She slowly put all the ingredients back in and pulled out the carton of milk. She began pouring her cereal when she heard his footsteps coming down the hall. His cologne reached her before he did. “Morning,” he whispered, as he passed behind her to the cupboard with the mugs. She felt like she was in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, knowing there were people around her but not wanting to look up. The silence was deafening. Her spoon scraped the sides of the ceramic bowl and filled the kitchen with echoes. She searched her mind for something to say, wanting to break the uncomfortable feeling that was creeping into her body.

“The Thompsons called about dinner on Saturday. Should I tell them we are going?” Eleanor finally broke the silence.

“Sure,” Richard replied, barely looking up from his paper.

“Alright, I’ll call Jayne back today. I always love dinner at their place. The desserts she makes are so good. Remember last time? That was delicious. I loved every bite. I mean, obviously I did, I tried to recreate it myself. Ugh, remember what the kitchen looked like after that – I mean, what a mess…”

“Uh-huh”.

Richard’s semi-response cut her off. She could barely see his face. He was hidden behind the New York Times and it didn’t look like he was coming out any time soon.

Eleanor finished her cereal, put the bowl in the dishwasher and headed out of the kitchen and back into her office.

“Bye.” She barely heard Richard before the door slammed behind him.

“Bye,” she said, to the empty room. She sat at her mahogany desk and swiveled around in her chair just in time to see the car pull out of the driveway. She turned back around and faced her computer. Her elbow hit the desk and the screen came back to life. There they were – laughing. She scrolled down:

OMG you guys are too cute!

I love this! You are still the perfect couple.

I can just feel the love – still look like you did the day you got married!

Thanks for showing us how it’s really done, El!

This is the best picture of you guys, you look so happy! Miss you…

She felt the sadness lifting. At least somewhere they were happy. At least frozen on the screen, with all their friends watching, they were still the happy couple she knew and loved. At least somewhere.