“Yeah, exactly.”
Definitelynotexactly, but it sure sounds like a much better excuse than “just the thought of going to the grocery store makes me feel like I want to vomit.”
A slow, creeping smile—one I know means she’s had an idea—works its way onto Fae’s face. “I have an idea,” she says. “Let’s get lunch.”
While in theory I would love to get lunch with Fae, she lives in the south, so there’s no way I’m making it there for lunchtime, never mind the fact that I’m not leaving my house.
“What do you mean?”
“We’ll get delivery!” she chirps, picking up her phone and tapping into it. “Wait, youcanget delivery where you live in the middle of the woods, right?”
“Yes, New Hampshire’s weird that way. I actually only live five minutes from town.”
Nodding, Fae rattles off the few places that actually deliver to my house and asks what I want. She must see the discomforton my face because she frowns.
“Ada, I know you arenotabout to offend a southern lady by not eating her food. I’m not there to ensure that you are properly fed, so this is the best I can do. Refusing to let me buy you lunch right now would be a good way to get fired.”
The corner of her mouth hitches up in a smile, just enough that I’m reasonably certain she’s only joking, but I’m not about to press her on it.
I let Fae order me a pizza, that way I’ll have leftovers, and ask her to choose the option where I won’t have to talk to the delivery guy.
She throws her head back in laughter. “No shit, I don’t think that has ever been set to anything else! I don’t want to have to look someone in the eye as they are delivering me way too many tacos.”
Over the next half hour, we review the presents I’ve purchased for her family and her upcoming schedule. We’re almost done with our call when my doorbell rings.
But instead of the normalding dong, it plays “Jingle Bells.”
At this point, I’m shocked I even still feel surprised.
Sleepy Ada strikes again.
On screen, Fae’s eyes light up. “That is so cute!” she squeals, and it takes everything I can do to keep a smile plastered on my face.
“Isn’t it?”
“Yeah! Now go get your food.”
Outside there is, of course, a pizza box, but it’s sitting on top of a green plastic tub.
There’s actually apileof green plastic tubs… that should be in my garage.
I blink at them, because it’s one thing for me to forget ordering something online, or changing something in an app on my phone. Walking outside to my garage and hauling out a bunch of boxes feels like something I should remember.
Not wanting to look at the evidence of my spiral a second longer, I snatch the pizza box and slam my front door, puttingmy back against it. My heart thrums out my back and reverberates into the wood of the door. I pull in a deep breath through my nose and ease it out of my mouth.
This is really nothing new. Sleepy Ada gets up to shit overnight, and so what if she’s leveled up? All I need to do is go back to my call and get through the rest of the day… maybe reach out to a therapist or two.
On my wrist, my watch dings with the notification from our family group chat. My parents and siblings are constantly talking about performances and Sunday dinners, so it’s pretty steady a lot of the time. I should leave… but I can’t bring myself to because it feels like leaving the family, instead of just a chat. It’s been hours since I’ve been able to check my phone for messages—I try really hard to be present when I’m on a client call—and after clearing all of their texts, I notice I’ve got another text message from “Person A”
Person A: I thought you might not be putting them up because the boxes were too heavy. I pulled them out for you
Below is a picture of my porch, obviously at night, with a bunch of green tubs. A telltale flare of light tells me that it was snowing when the photo was taken.
If my heart was racing before, now I’m worried it has stopped entirely. There’s a reason that people often go to the hospital when they’re having a panic attack, this shit hurts. Right now, it feels like an elephant is stepping on my chest.
I shake my wrist, like my watch is an Etch-a-Sketch and that might make it all go away, but I’m obviously not delusional enough to believe that. Wiping my face clean of panic, I stand in front of the laptop. I can barely process what is happening, but I know that I cannot, underanycircumstances, deal with this in front of Fae.
“I’m so sorry, something has come up, and I think I need to go. Could I geta rain check on our lunch date?”
