“I didn’tknowhe was her ex. I didn’t even know they knew each other!”
“Really, boo? How is that possible?”
My insides feel like they’re on fire. “He has this thing with nicknames. He called her Elle, like short for Ellerton. I had no clue it was Lindsay.”
“Damn. That’s the kind of unfortunate that’s usually reserved for red carpet fails at the Emmys.”
“Ev, I really gotta go.”
“Wait. One more thing. If you want me to try and talk to Sean or Kath for you, I will. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t want to touch you with a ten-foot pole. Especially if you were onlyhopingfor this handshake deal to come through. Honestly? They might not even believe you. The agents around here have really made a mess of this place lately.”
I groan.
“But don’t lose hope. You won’t have a hard time finding someone new. You’re amazing, G.”
“Right now, I think I just need to drink myself into oblivion.”
“I hear that, girl. You do you. Let’s touch base soon though, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Bye,” he says and hangs up the phone.
I look up. Still in Brooklyn. Thank God the B train runs above ground.
I do a search online forYarmouth Aycock, P.C.The number comes up and I double click it to place the call. It’s 5:35. The phone rings four times, until an answering machine picks up.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. What am I supposed to do now?
Headphone Guy is spilling over the seat divider into my personal space, making me feel next-level claustrophobic. Still, I can’t relinquish my seat because I’m too busy on my phone. I decide it’s in my best interest to take the few remaining minutes before the subway careens into the below-ground tunnel and set up my email on my phone.
I am not technologically savvy. Like, I’m not completely useless on a laptop, but I am probably the only human person under the age of forty who still pays bills using actual, real-life checks and balances a checkbook.I don’ttrustmyself with the Internet. I’m afraid if I put my bills on automatic bill pay I’ll end up broke and starving. Granted, I’m not far off from broke and starving right now, but that’s why God invented credit cards.
When cell phones went from having actual buttons you could press to just being a flat touch screen, I thought I was going to chop off my thumbs in frustration. I could not for the life of me figure out how hard to swipe or push “buttons” that would come up on the screen. I missed zillions of calls the year I got my first touchscreen phone, simply because I couldn’t get the hang of swiping the big green phone icon that would come up when someone was calling me. Texting was a nightmare. I tried hand lotions. They only made things slippery and greasy. I tried those gloves with the different-colored forefinger and thumb. That just made my hands sweaty. For a while, I found I was okay if I just used my knuckles to swipe at things, but I saw myself do that once in the reflection of a Dunkin’ Donuts window andmy. God.It was like watching an ape play with a cell phone. I was so mortified that I immediately went home and spent the rest of the night texting and emailing myself until I could figure out the exact pressure to use with the touch screen to make it work.
So, as one could probably imagine, setting up my email account on a moving train with a wannabe emcee sweating all over me and a bag lady staring me down is not the easiest feat. But I remain focused, and I am able to respond to simple prompts, including what my mother’s maiden name is, what street I grew up on, and what my favorite movie is. And with moments to spare, I am able to unlock the Pandora’s box that is my email account on my phone.
New messages pour in. They are mostly spam because I am a nobody. There’s a forward from my mother of kittens wearing sweaters that makes me seriously contemplate ending it all right now, just smothering myself with Headphone Guy’s flabby upper arm.
But then I see I have a message from Colin.
TO:Grace Landing ([email protected])
FROM:Colin Yarmouth ([email protected])
SUBJECT:Call me
Hey,
I know you said you’re trying to fix your phone situation (sorry to hear about that, by the way), but as soon as you do, can you please give me a call? It’s important.
C.
For a smart guy—averysmart guy—alawyer—you would think Colin might realize that if he’s asking me to call him and my cell phone is in the sewer, there’s a good chance that I don’t have his number anymore. Sadly, this is not the case.
The space around me goes dark and the pressure suddenly changes in my ears. We’re in the tunnel. Now I have no service, so I can’t write Colin back. I check the time. It’s 5:50. As soon as I get off the train, I’m going to have to run right over to the restaurant. Everything else will have to wait.
