I half expect a text from my dad. He checked in on me earlier. Then Mom did, like she had him message me but even when he reported backthat I was still alive and not floating face down in the lake, she still had to double check herself.
What I am not expecting when I drag the notification window down is to see:
Boe<3: I left food outside your door. Eat.
I cough, hitting my chest.
I read it again. Blink.
I swipe out of the window and open the message app.
The text is still there.
I suck in a breath and grip my phone with both hands.
The last text message in this thread was from me. One year, eleven months, and twenty-eight days ago.
I can’t think about that now though, becauseBowen texted me.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard for a dozen frantic heart beats before they move.
Me: Is it poisoned?
My head feels like it's ballooning up with all the whooshing in my ears. I hover over the send button. My throat clicks with my dry swallow, and I touch the arrow with a barely there tap.
The phone slaps to my chest when three little dots start dancing on the bottom of the screen.
Oh my God?
As soon as it vibrates, I pull the phone back to read it.
Boe<3: like I’d tell?
Air wheezes out of my chest, and I scramble onto my knees, holding the phone closer to my face. I talked to the man today. I literally saw him naked!Why does a text feel so…intimate? I’m like a high schooler who just got a text from their crush.
Me: careful, Briggs. That was almost a joke.
Boe<3: was it though?
Me: its bleach, huh?
Boe<3: eat the food, Meyer.
Me: prickly
I wait for the dots longer this time. They start and stop twice before a message finally comes through.
Boe<3: I didn’t hear the door yet.
Snorting, I get to my feet and pad to the door. I open it slowly, half expecting the man himself to be standing on the other side. Plate in hand, eyebrow quirked. But the hallway is empty. Just a plate with toast and an omelet on it. I pick up the plate and close the door.
When I’m settled back on the bed, I pick up the phone.
Me: you already fed me eggs today.
Boe<3: I’m aware. Complaining?
Me: please. Remember when I hyper fixated on eggs for a solid week one summer? Brett was gagging over scrambled eggs. I think there were literal tears.
