1
Weslyn
Friday, November 8th
All I want to do is toss myself on my bed, huff into my pillow and watch reruns of my favorite vampire show for the rest of the night. No one told me school would be this taxing on a girl's mental health. But instead, I find myself needing to head straight from campus to the bowling alley so I don’t end up late for work—something I'm already on notice for.
I usually only work Friday nights with some other weekdays sprinkled in here and there. Measly four-hour shifts that provide me with enough money for food and other essentials while I use my much appreciated college fund on tuition and the rent for my tiny apartment not far from campus. I don’t really like my job, per se. But I put up with it because it accommodates my semi-social life and the time I need for classes and schoolwork. But other than having a job and being enrolled in college, I don’t really have much else going on with my life. It's pretty much asboring as it can get and some days, I wonder if I even have anything worth really looking forward to.
I toss my bag into the front passenger seat and secure my seatbelt before I start the car. I check my rearview mirror, making sure the coast is clear, but before I have a chance to pull out of the parking lot, my phone vibrates in my bag. I'd normally ignore it, thinking it might just be one of those toll road scammers, but when I lift my phone and see that it's a normal text message from a regular phone number, intrigue coats me.
3:17pm
Hey, It's Kyran. I wanted to see if we could schedule a follow up from last night’s conversation.
I stare at it in confusion.Last night? Last night, I was probably face down in a textbook, sleeping, as lo-fi music played in the background. It's what I do most nights these days. Welcome to the glorious life of a college student.
I read the message again, certain I don’t know anyone by that name and I should just ignore it. But if I do, whoever this is might text me again, clearly thinking I'm someone I'm not. So I decide to type out a quick response just to ward them off.
3:18pm
Hey, I'm sorry. I think you have the wrong number.
I send the quick message and then toss my phone back in my bag before I head off to work.
2
Kyran
I double check the number, having received it from a potential client from last night. Not that it would make a difference seeing as they’re the one who typed it in, and I don't have anything to compare it to. Maybe they were a little too tipsy after all; reasons why I tried to advocate for alcohol to not be present at business ventures, but I digress.
The first Thursday of every month, we hold a mixer for all of the local clients and members we work for as well as any referrals they might have. It acts as an attempt to bring in new business while also making our current clients feel celebrated as we check in with their needs.
Maybe it's a good thing the number is wrong because the person who gave it to me didn’t seem at all serious about talking business and I honestly don’t really want to take on another client right now. But as I exit through the revolving door of my work building and enter the crowded sidewalk, something pulls at me to analyze themessage.
3:18pm
I'm sorry. I think you have the wrong number.
As I get to the crosswalk, I decide to just stuff my phone back into my suit pocket. Wrong number. End of story.
Or so I think.
After a few more minutes of walking, I finally make it to the door of my apartment building and the doorman rings me in, allowing me access to the lobby where I head for the elevators that take me up to my condo. Once inside my home, I kick off my shoes and remove my suit jacket, laying it nicely in the laundry room right off of the kitchen before heading back to my bedroom to jump in the shower.
It's usually the same routine most days. Wake up. Emails. Work. Meetings. Go home. Shower. Emails. Bed. The repetitiveness is not something that's talked about much and eventually it catches up, even if I do really like my job. But what's the point of having a life you like if you don't have anyone to like it with?
Ah, who the hell am I kidding? It's my own fault I don't have a love life of sorts. I pour all of my energy into my work which is probably why I'm so good at it.
I get out of the shower and dress for the night, heading to the kitchen for a beer before sitting down on the couch and flipping the T.V on. But even now, something still bothers me. I don’t even know why, but I keep glancing at my phone. I feel a slight tug to respond to the message. At least just to apologize for bothering them. Not that it's my fault I got the wrong number. Again, I'm not mad or truly upset by the mishap but something in my conscience is urgingme to respond. If it truly is the wrong number, I’ll delete the contact out of my phone and put it out of my mind.
3:32pm
Were you not at the financial mixer last night?
I look at my message and immediately regret it. I should just leave it be. It's not even that big of a deal and like I said, I don't need any new clients to take on right now.
Never mind. Must have been a mistake. Sorry to bother you.
