Buzzed on a stomach full of beer and popcorn, I’m driving myself back to my apartment on the West Side of the city and find myself sending Katrina a text at a long red light. It’s probably not the smartest thing to do, but I can’t get her off my mind, so I figure an innocent text exchange between us won’t be too messy.
Me: Thanks for the other day. I needed that field trip to the stadium.
Doc: …
The dots in the messenger window disappear, then reappear twice. I figure she’s thinking about what the right response should be. I’ve never texted her before and we never debriefed about the kiss. In fact, she got out of there as fast as her little legs would take her, saying she didn’t want to be late for her next appointment.
She’s being careful.
So I wait.
The light turns green when she finally responds.
Doc: I’m glad you’re feeling better. See you on Monday.
I use the dictation feature on my phone to send the next text.
Me: I was wondering if maybe you want to meet for coffee near the dog park where I saw you last time?
Doc: …
More waiting.
Doc: Sorry, busy with plans. I’ll see you Monday.
I admit I’m disappointed and taken aback by her response. The kiss we shared led me to believe that we were on the same page, but the way she just shut me down is saying something different. So I send something stupid.
Me: What plans?
She never responds.
That night, I have a very different dream about her.
More like a nightmare.
Katrina is sitting in the park with Butters and a man. The man’s arm is wrapped around her shoulders in a possessive formation. I can’t see either of their faces because they’re facing away from my viewpoint.
I don’t remember much else about the dream when I wake, except for a feeling of fury that I can’t shake.
Fury that I need to talk through with my therapist at 10am sharp tomorrow fucking morning.
katrina
“What’s in the bag?”Fatima asks as I exit the elevator into the reception area.
“I had a toasted corn muffin with butter.”
“Mmm, you have some left?”
“I bought two. You want the other one?”
“You aren’t going to eat it?”
“Now you know I have no business eating two buttered corn muffins.”
“Okay,” she grins. “I’ll take it. I didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast this morning.”
I hand over the greasy bag of goodness over to Fatima.
