I send her a picture of a bird.
Jonah: The tufted titmouse (lol that’s really the name) also known as Baeolophus bicolor is a songbird. It’s part of the tit and chickadee family.
I smile when I hit send and lay back with one arm behind my head.She’s gonna be so pleased.
Renée: I’m going to need more than the first line Wikipedia gives you. Tell me about their ecology.
Swing and a miss.
I have to look up the definition of ecology before doing more research and responding.
Jonah: Ok so the tufted titmouse (or titmice if you’re talking more than one) is a total savage despite its cutie patootie looks. It snacks on bugs, berries, seeds... whatever it finds on the ground or in trees. In the summer it’s all about munching on those caterpillars. Bro’s a total simp for a bird feeder too. He loves to stash food like a sneaky little hoarder. With 4 siblings I can relate.
Jonah: Also? Lowkey the titmouse is a curious guy. Might roll up to your window and be like “what’s up?” The internet makes it sound like he’s harmless but that sounds like a peeping Tom to me.
Jonah: And this bird is loud! Chirps more than hockey players in a locker room. Especially when other birds are freaking out.
Jonah: Oh, and if one of the dogs ate a titmouse (lol I still can’t get over the name of this bird) the risk of harm is really low.
Jonah: OMG I got a new dog! He’s got the sugarfoot, so let the girls know he can’t have any extra treats. They’re gonna be sad but it’s for his own good.
Renée: Okay... first of all, that dog is very cute. Do you know how to say no adoptinganimals?
Jonah: why would I want to?
Renée: Second, that was one way to present biological findings, I guess.
Jonah: Do I get a good grade?
Renée: You’re going to need to give me a little more. Did you find anything on their nesting habits?
Jonah: Hmm... it’s getting pretty late. Maybe I could come by tomorrow and we could discuss nesting habits during your office hours.
Renée: No.
Jonah: But the titmice!
I suddenly remind myself that tomorrow is Saturday and I not only have a rugby game, but I have to go grocery shopping for the family dinner I’ve demanded to host the following day. So I text her back and look like a moron.
Jonah: Wait, I have a game tomorrow. I’m sorry Professor Wilde, but I won’t be able to make your office hours. Another time then.
Renée:
Jonah: If you’re not too busy tomorrow... would you and the girls like to come to my game?
Renée: I don’t know the first thing about rugby.
Jonah: That’s ok! No one does. I don’t actually think there are rules. It’s all vibes.
Renée: lol I highly doubt that
My heart soars like an eagle—no, a titmouse—when I process the incredible fact that Renée Wilde just lol’d at something I said. A screenshot is hastily fired off to Joaquín with a million exclamation points before I return to my text chain with Renée.
Jonah: I’ll learn about the nesting habits of titmice, and you can learn about rugby.
Renée: I don’t need to attend a game to learn about a sport.
My soaring heart deflates a little—she’s right. Why would she want to watch a sport she doesn’t care about? I’m still just her neighbor, an irritation that she sometimes lols at. For the first time since we began texting tonight, I set my phone down, and I curl up against King. His plastic cone isn’t exactly comfortable against my cheek, but he lets me hold him close. My fingers sift through his warm fur, and he grunts before relaxing into it.
