Then:
Annie:It is not a request.
Part of me wanted to believe her because believing her was easier than remaining cautious.
Another part wanted proof that lasted longer than a voice memo.
Both parts belonged to me.
Me:I didn’t hate it.
There was a pause.
Annie:Putting that on the album cover.
Me:Do that and I will deny knowing you.
Annie:Richard can prepare a statement.
I laughed.
The sound traveled across the porch and vanished into the dark.
Inside, Lexi’s card waited on the kitchen counter.
Captain Pancake driving the boat.
Annie underwater with six fingers.
A child deciding that fear did not automatically mean no.
I photographed the front and the message inside.
The card was not mine.
The words were meant for Annie.
I sent both images.
Me:This arrived today. Lexi is the birthday girl from the mermaid trip.
Annie did not respond immediately.
When she did, there was no joke.
Annie:She remembered me.
Me:She remembers everyone who wears purple fins and nearly knocks my mask off underwater.
Annie:I was learning.
Me:You were flailing with purpose.
A few seconds passed.
Annie:May I write back?
She had asked.
