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The chat exploded.

Trevor: HOLD ON THAT’S LOANY???

Mason: I thought Loany lived in Wyoming.

Patty: No she was in Arizona.

Byron: Her last known location was New Mexico.

Karen: She should have identified herself immediately. We’ve not seen her in years!

Julie: Welcome back, sweetheart!

Grandpa Alfonse:

My thumb remained suspended above the leave button.

Loany.

The name was close enough to mine that a minor clerical error seemed possible. Maybe Grandma Ruth had entered the wrong contact by one digit and accidentally landed on me.

That explanation was far more reasonable than anything else that had happened in the chat.

I started typing.

Sloane: I think there may have been a mistake⁠—

Grandma Ruth responded before I could finish my not-well-thought-out response.

Grandma Ruth: I KNEW YOU’D COME AROUND EVENTUALLY.

I deleted my sentence.

Mason: Did she leave?

Trevor: she’s typing

Karen: Everyone stop sending messages so she can answer.

Trevor: u first

Karen: Type normally.

Trevor: I am communicating in the accepted dialect of my gEnErAtioN.

Byron: You spelled “what” as “wat” earlier.

Trevor: language evolves. Git w/ the program.

Grandma Ruth: THE LAST TIME WE HEARD FROM OL’ LONER WAS MONTHS AGO IN THE OLD GROUP CHAT. IF I RECALL CORRECTLY, SHE GAVE US A WHOPPING THUMBS UP. HOW HAVE YOU BEEN?

I should have left. Should have apologized, removed myself from the chat, and never thought about this again. Instead, I scrolled upward, searching the chat for any prior reference to Loany. The search returned with absolutely nothing.

Sloane: Sorry. I don’t go by Loany anymore.

It wasn’t a lie. I had never gone by Loany, which meant I currently did not go by it.

Grandma Ruth: I NEVER LIKED THAT NICKNAME ANYWAY.