“The possibilities are endless,” I agreed.
We had decided that Daytime Us would let things play out. Maybe this was the next logical step, forging a literal connection. And we had managed to do so in other ways first, which had to count for something.
Now I picked up the phone, unwrapping it as Lana had a few nights earlier. The screen was beautiful, pristine, just as she’d said.
I could feel Ben’s eyes on me as I put a finger on the Powerbutton. It felt right for him to be a witness. My previous phone was somewhere out there, deep down in the dark below. I took a breath and pushed.
I had so many messages.
The most recent was from Lana, sent as promised only minutes earlier.Welcome Back!she’d typed, followed by a tiny fireworks, muscle flex, and champagne bottle. I’d not figured her for an emoji type, for some reason.
I was distantly aware, as I processed this, that my phone continued to chirp repeatedly with other notifications. But it wasn’t until I started actually paying close attention that I realized that many of them were actually emails. From Colin. They all had the same subject line:Finley.
I don’t even know if you are reading these. You’re the last person who cares about me right now. And maybe that’s why it feels good to talk to you. On the cruise, I literally felt at sea. Like the world was so much bigger than I’d ever known. It scared me, to be honest. I’m a Smart Kid. I thought I knew everything.
Below it was another. Sent the same day, a few hours later.
Camp Dogwood was short a counselor so I agreed to fill in for a week. It’s not so great. I feel so disconnected from the kids. It’s all new for them, even stupid lanyards and kickball.
Some were long, many paragraphs. Others just a few sentences. None signed.
After that day I talked to you, it was like all I knew was wrong. I was questioning everything. I deleted my UMe profile, stopped posting. Kind of vanished for real, too. Which led to some pretty serious talks with my family. They’re worried about me. The thing is, I thought I had it all figured out. Everything in a line. You understand, right?
I felt myself suck in a breath. Despite my anger at how he’d dumped me, how completely I’d been excised and then replaced in what I thought was my own life, I was worried for him. Also—and maybe this should have concerned me more—Ben had left at some point. I hadn’t even realized, I was so lost in my screen.
I skipped Speculator again tonight, and now everyone’s freaking out. It’s just a game. I’m tired of having to be the cruise director for, well, everything. Shit. Another boat reference. The truth: I wish we could go back a year, do it all again. I’d enjoy it more this time.
My voicemail alert was also sounding, one bouncy tone after another. There were a bunch from people right after I’d chucked my phone, followed by some repeat attempts. After that, again, it was all Colin. Weirdly: Most of them had begunin just the last day or two. Just then, my phone rang in my hand. Welcome back, indeed. It was my dad.
“Was your new phone not working?” he asked over the recognizable sound of Will and Piper’s favorite music channel. He had to be driving.
“No, it is,” I told him. “I just now turned it on.”
“Oh,” he said, surprised. “Figured something had to be wrong. Since you didn’t do it, like, seconds after they handed it to you.”
Maybe I deserved this. But it still felt like a low blow. “I’ve actually liked not being so connected,” I told him. “Wasn’t in a huge rush to do it, honestly.”
“Really?” Did he have to sound so incredulous? Or maybe I was just being oversensitive. “Well, I never thought I’d say this, considering how much you were on it, but I’m glad. I wasn’t a fan of having little to no contact, as it turns out.”
I understood this. But also—with my mom, and now Colin—I’d learned the catch. Cut off from someone, there were always questions: where they were, what they were doing. In touch, though, inevitably you had access to the answers. Even if they weren’t the ones you wanted.
When we hung up, I went back to Colin’s voicemails. The most recent was from the night before. 12:34 a.m.
“Hey. Me again. Just out driving around. Did you know the Chicks fries are better at night? It’s true. Crispier.” I heard a turn signal, clicking. “So I’m thinking I might defer the U until spring.”
Wait, what?
“It’s just a semester, right? Time to pause, figure stuff out. Hey, maybe I could work at Chicks?”
Then he hung up. Like the emails, no closing. I just sat there, trying to process. Then I heard the door behind me. It was Jeremy, leaving with his plants. He gave me a wave as he passed by, smiling, and got into his car.
I looked inside. My mom was still at the table. A single pot sat in front of her. Sand plum. Somehow, I remembered.
As she put a finger to the foliage, touching it lightly, I saw movement in the kitchen. It was Ben, unloading the few items he’d brought onto the countertop, pretty much what he’d been doing that night with the beers and the grapes. Framed in the doorway, they were like two options. Instead of choosing, I just went to my room.
“There you are,” Ben said that night when I showed up at the dock. He was sitting on an overturned crate. I noticed that for first time in a while, he held his guitar.
“You were expecting me not to show?” I replied, making a point to keep my voice light, joking. “I thought for sure we’d passed shame-reel status by now.”
