My chest tightens and another huge tear comes. My blanket works just fine as a tissue this time. “Tell her the same,” I say around the lump in my throat.
Liz puts down her phone and picks up the brown box on the table. “You want me to open this?”
I stare for a moment. “Yeah. It’s been nice not having a phone for a while though.”
“I’m sure.”
I watch this poor woman burn the fuck out of a pie crust as Liz asks me the appropriate questions so she can activate my phone. By the time everything is finished backing up, we’ve moved on to the bread portion of the competition.
“Yikes,” Liz says under her breath.
“What?”
“Just a lot of alerts. I’m guessing you haven’t been checking your computer either.”
“No. I told Lara to call me on the burner if it was important,” I say. “And I can't really say anything until the Feds complete their investigation.” I might be making that up. Maybe not. It's a good enough excuse.
“Okay. Let’s see. We’ll ignore the emails for now. Tons of text. Most of them are from Jason. Um yeah…He texted like ten minutes ago. Do you want me to respond to him?”
Liz and Jason aren't close. For the first time I'm grateful for that. She tolerates him for me, and just barely. When I left the hospital the nurse who checked me out told me only to take on as much as I can handle. Step one is stop crying. Step two will be facing people who will ask me an endless stream of questions. People like my boyfriend.
“Let me see.” I hold out my bandaged hand and take my new phone. Those red dots with numbers in the double and triple digits cover the screen. I’m not checking Facebook. Liz posted something for me and Miles’s best friend, Owen, is handling things with their medical school friends.
There are so many voicemails, but I can’t listen. I look at the texts. The previews are all the same, a hundred different versions ofI just heard. OMG, Are you okay? So sorry to hear about Miles.I look at the texts from Jason. His are the most recent, and really, the most urgent.
I ran into Brooklyn.
She said you’re back.
Are you back?
Why didn't you call me?
Something in my stomach sinks. It feels like acceptance. I can't hide from everyone, even if I want to. Still my gut is telling me to lie. I can’t deal with any level of his shit right now.
I just got back this morning.
The cops still have all my stuff.
Including my phone.
Fuck. I'm coming over.
Iwantto tell him to stay home. Or stay at the office. Or just tell him to go to one of his usual haunts with his buddies because I'm sure the Mets are playing. He doesn't need to see me like this. I don't need to answer his questions. He's never even met Miles. And Iamfine. I'm here. I'm alive. There's nothing to talk about. Suddenly I'm nauseous and my chest hurts in a different way than it's been hurting for the last thirteen days.
Itextokay.
Isilenceall my alerts and put my phone on the coffee table. I shove more chicken in my mouth. My throat’s so dry I have to drink something before I choke. Still, the food helps.
“You okay?” Liz asks. She's carefully looking at my face and then she looks at my hands. I feel like I'm shaking, but I’m not.
“Just hungry. I should have eaten earlier.”
She smiles and pats my knee. “Get those nutrients in, boo boo.”
I finish my dinner. I have more water. A sweet South Asian man with no hair and thick glasses wins the bread challenge. The youngest contestant, a mousy white girl who definitely had some skills is sent home. Next up is cakes. I wait.
My heart freezes when the buzzer goes off.
