I scroll down the page and read his caption: “Treating myself after a long day at CSU with the company of @queenofvultures. Can’t imagine a better way to spend the night. Here’s to the start of something special.”
Under Dylan’s comment is a comment from the Queen of Vultures that reads. “I’ve waited so long for you to be back here. Can’t wait to see how our adventures together unfold.”At the end, she’s added heart emojis.
My phone falls from my hand. I have so many questions. Who is this Queen of Vultures? Just what do these heart emojis mean?
I click on her Photogram account. It’s set to private, but I can still see that her name is Rainy and that she’s a vet, vulture advocate, mountain biker, and dog mom. Her profile picture is small, but I can make out that she has shoulder-length electric-blue hair and brown eyes.
Okay. So this Queen of Vultures, Rainy, is somebody Dylan must work with. The research position he’s taken is studying vultures. But what about the hearts?
I read her comment again.“I’ve waited so long for you.”My stomach sinks. Is Dylan romantically involved with her? Is she his type? I frown. Of all the women I’ve seen him date, nobody has come remotely close to looking like Rainy. She doesn’t tick the tall, model-esque box. She’s a vet, just like me. And a dog mom, also just like me.
Ugh, I have to stop this. I’m starting to obsess over Dylan to an unhealthy level. I need to get him out of my head. He doesn’t want me. He told me point-blank there will never be anus.The only person who’s miserable and suffering is me.
I rub my temples. It’s like the inside of my head is a Swiss clock and there are two figures inside striking a rubber mallet against the base of my skull. I climb out of bed and walk out of my room to the kitchen. Max trails behind me, his paws clicking against the wooden floor.
As I fill a glass with water from the tap, I bend over and scratch his ears with one hand. The soothing motion relaxes me. I’m beginning to wonder if Dylan even cared all that much about our friendship. He still hasn’t texted me. I know it’s a two-way street, but he’s the one who said he’d get back to me. Clearly, I’m not a priority anymore. Maybe I was always just a business partner to him. A means to an end.
If I want to help myself, I need to completely disconnect myself from all that’s going on. Setting my cup on the counter with a thud, Imarch back to my bedroom, grab my phone, and one by one, delete each app.
Opening a blank text message, I type to Daphne:
Ava:You’ll be proud. You wanted me to go off the grid for this vacation. So I am. I just deleted all my social media apps. The cleanse starts now.
I don’t expect to hear from my sister. It’s late and she’s probably fallen into bed, exhausted from working a full-time job and caring for her family.
Now I only have one more task to do. I google plane tickets and come up with one airline that’s about a grand cheaper than all the others. Pulling up the Pacific Skyways web page, I plug in the dates for a week from now. My hand hovers over the “Book Now” button. Pacific Skyways used to be a decent airline, but their reviews lately say otherwise.
Is it worth taking a chance? I blow out air. A thousand dollars is a lot of money. Especially when my budget is tight. What I save could go toward my hotel, food, train tickets, or souvenirs.
Decision made. I’ll do it. Taking a deep breath, I click the button. The screen changes, flashing a confirmation number. I’ve just booked myself a non-refundable round-trip business-class ticket to Spain. I’ll worry about figuring out the rest of my trip in the coming days.
“Well, Max, there’s no going back now. I’m really doing it. I’m going on vacation.”
He barks and wags his tail as if he’s telling me, “About time.”
Monday morning, I receive a reply from my sister.
Daphne: Good girl. Not accessing social media is hard at first, but don’t give in to the urge to download anything again.
Ava: Is this coming from personal experience?
Daphne: Duh. I had to do a social-media cleanse when the kids were born. I wanted them to be the focus, not me taking pictures of how cute they were and sharing them with my internet friends.
Ava: Huh. I never knew that.
Daphne: Now you do.
Ava: How long did you last?
I stare at the screen as three dots blink. Daphne has decent self-control, but she’s not as strong as I am. Her phone is always attached to her hand, as if it’s an extension of her body.
Daphne: About a week.
I snort.
Ava: At least that’s something.
Daphne: In my defense, I needed access to Photogram for work.
