My stomach growled. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check the time and saw a slew of text messages, most of them from Eleni, asking me if I was okay. I hadn’t told her yet and really hadn’t planned on it.
The last one from her made me smile:I love you.
I may have only been sixteen, but I was in love with her. The guidance counselor once caught us kissing in the hallway. We’d skipped class, thinking we knew the best place to hide, and wouldn’t you know it—busted. He took me to his office and called my mom, who had to come and sit in a meeting. My mom said she was going to ground me for breaking school rules but didn’t see the point. Eleni and I would seeeach other at school, and the school wouldn’t do anything to keep us from seeing each other in or during class or at lunch.
My mom did sit me down every day after school and teach me about the birds and the bees. The entire week was awkward and uncomfortable for both of us. I understood, though. She wanted a different life for me because being a teenage mom had been hard for her.
I saw a text from my mom. Seeing her name on my phone made my heart lurch. How many more messages would I get before they stopped altogether?
Mom: I love you. I hope you’re having a great time with Flinn.
My throat tightened, and I could no longer hold back the tears. Flinn sat next to me, being there without saying anything.
I read and reread her message and finally took a screenshot so I could save it. I had no idea what happened to a person’s phone after they died, but I never wanted to lose her messages. Even the ones where she yelled at me to get my ass home.
“Do you think the phone store can show me how to download my texts?”
Flinn shrugged. “Not sure. I guess we should go ask them.”
I wanted to do it now, versus later, because later never came. Or it did, and then it was too late. We left the park and walked toward our downtown area. People honked and called out our names. We waved. People stopped us on the street, and we chatted. To everyone, we didn’t have a care in the world. It was a lazy Saturday, the sun was shining even though it was cold, and we were two teens strolling the streets.
I imagined that once the news spread about my mom, these same people would stop me and tell me how sorry they were to hear the news and ask if I needed anything. That’s what people did. They cared.
Flinn and I entered the phone store and waited for one of the clerks to come over and chat with us. It took a bit, which we figured wasbecause neither of us was old enough to buy our own phones, and we didn’t have our parents with us.
“What can I do for you?” the clerk asked. He kept his hands behind his back and jutted his chin out, which I thought was odd. It was almost like we bored him.
“Is there a way to download all of my text messages?”
“Yes, of course.”
I waited.
So did Flinn.
“Okay. Can you tell me how?”
The clerk began to roll his eyes but turned away before I could see him do it fully. Flinn shook his head and muttered under his breath that this guy was an asshat. Part of me understood because we weren’t buying anything or changing our plan, but the other side of me wondered if this guy was being a jerk because of how we were dressed. Flinn was in all black, with a chain hanging from his belt loops, while I wore some ratty sweats and an oversize sweatshirt. Besides the fact we were completely opposite from one another, we didn’t look great.
We followed the clerk to the counter, and he angrily tapped the keyboard while huffing every few seconds. If I didn’t want the information, I would’ve made a scene. Having the text messages from my mom was important. There was a good chance I’d never go back and read them, but I also didn’t want to lose them.
When the clerk sighed heavily, Flinn spoke up. “Is your dad dying?”
“Excuse me?”
“I didn’t mumble or slip up,” Flinn said. “Is your dad dying?”
“No.” He looked from Flinn to me.
“His is, and he wants to keep the messages he has. If you can’t get the instructions, maybe someone else can.”
Again, the clerk looked at us and then pressed one button. The printer behind him came to life. He took the few sheets of paper, stapled them, and handed them to me.
“I’m sorry about your dad.”
It didn’t even bother me that Flinn had said what he said or used my dad instead of my mom. I wished it was my dad dying. Hell, for all I knew, he was already dead. If he was, I’d dig him up and find a way for him to die all over again, as long as my mom could stay.
Outside, I folded the sheets of paper and put them in my pocket.
