Me:Can you card count in Catan?
Austen:I’m developing a theory.
Me:You would.
On Wednesday, we FaceTimed for the first time.
I waited until Dad was asleep, then locked my door and propped my phone against the pillow.Austen’s face appeared, pixelated at first before sharpening into focus.He was in what looked like a guest room—floral wallpaper, a quilt that was probably made by someone in the Chen family, and soft lamplight.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hello.”He adjusted his glasses.“You look tired.”
“Dad’s been running me through film sessions.Four hours today.”
“That seems excessive.”
“That’s his love language.”I shifted on the bed, trying to find an angle that didn’t make me look like a corpse.“How’s the Chen family circus?”
“Chaotic.Warm.”He paused.“I’m not used to this much… togetherness.”
“Bad togetherness?”
“No.Just unfamiliar.”He was quiet for a moment.“They included me in the family photo.For the Christmas card.Mrs.Chen insisted.”
Something in my chest cracked open a little.“That’s good, Austen.”
“Is it?I’m not family.I’m Maya’s strange friend who showed up with a suitcase and opinions about optimal dishwasher loading.”
“You’re their guest.They want you to feel included.”
“The concept is… taking time to process.”
I wished I could reach through the screen.Touch his face, smooth the furrow between his brows.Instead, I just looked at him, memorizing the details I’d been missing—the way his hair fell across his forehead, the precise angle of his jaw, the small scar above his eyebrow I’d never asked about.
“I miss you,” I said.
“I miss you too.”He said it like a fact, clinical and certain.“The bed here is objectively comfortable, but I keep reaching for a body that isn’t there.”
“Same.”
We sat in silence for a while.Not awkward—just present.His breathing through the speaker, mine loud in the quiet room.The distance between Vermont and New Jersey collapsed into the space of a phone screen.
“Luke?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you.For making me go.”
“You would have been miserable in that dorm.”
“Probably.But I would have been miserable while saving money and maintaining my routine.”He almost smiled.“This is better.Even if Mrs.Chen keeps asking about my love life.”
“Tell her your love life is classified.”
“I told her it was ‘under development.’She seemed satisfied.”
I laughed, quiet enough not to wake Dad.“Under development.I like that.”
