Fifteen minutes pass by. I take payments from two customers and answer a few phone calls. I don’t know if Divya will answer later, or if she’s just ghosting us.
Hang on a second.
Ghosting.
GHOST.
I snatch up my phone again and type the word into Wordle. And it’s right! GHOST!
I’m doing a victory spin in my chair when John walks in. “What’s the celebration for?”
“GHOST,” I say triumphantly.
“Nice,” he says. “Hey, I’m heading out early, but are we still good for the race tomorrow?”
I stop spinning. I kind of forgot I’d agreed to go to John’s car race this weekend. I see now why Fallon said common interests are important. I can’t think of any worse way to spend a weekend than standing around some loud, grimy racetrack.
But I promised him I would. And anyway, it’s not like he wants to do all the stuff I want to do. (Even though my stuff is awesome, like myLegend of Zeldadrinking game.)
“Of course,” I say. “What time will you pick me up?”
“Practice starts at nine, and I’ve still got some work to do on the car, so I’ll have to leave here at like... four?”
Four?
In themorning?
“Or you could drive up with Kiara. I think she and Jake are leaving here around eight.”
I hesitate, trying not to look too eager. “I don’t want to miss anything in the morning.”
John shrugs. “It’s just practice.”
Thank god. “Well—okay, then. I mean, if Kiara and Jake don’t mind.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll text them now.”
“Thanks. Drive safe tomorrow,” I say.
He waves a hand in acknowledgment and heads out the door.
My brain is a bit frazzled from reading about community grants, so I wile away the rest of the day straightening up the office and planning my schedule for the next week. Trey wants to get lunch sometime to do a bit more planning for our Canada Day event, and Jim and Mrs. Finnamore both need their laundry done.
I leave the shop around five and head home. Something is nagging at me as I drive, and for a while I can’t figure out what.
I throw my keys on the coffee table and sit down on the couch, swiping open my texts to send Trey a few links about potential community grants. The nagging feeling gets stronger as I reply to a text Kiara sent me offering to ask her craft booth friends to set up booths at our Canada Day event.
[5:37]: That would be amazing!
[5:37]: That’s such a good idea!?
I would only be exaggerating slightly if I said I have a bigger crush on Kiara than I do on John. She’s so witty and clever, and she’s thoughtful too. Like when I mentioned to her that I wanted to have cupcakes for the Canada Day event, and two hours later she sent me a text connecting me with her friend Cara, who runs a bakery in Charlottetown.
Something clicks in my brain as I realize what’s bothering me. Divya never answered my text in the group chat. My text—“Divya, what do you think?”—is the last one in the thread.
I open the group chat and scroll back through it slowly, going farther and farther. The nagging feeling grows stronger the longer I scroll.
For the last year, the only one who’s ever started conversations in this group is me.
