by Jen DeLuca
I held my breath as I hit Send. Was he even anywhere near his phone? He could have been emailing me from a laptop. Maybe he wouldn’t get it till morning. But no: the message was marked “read” almost immediately, followed by those dots that indicated he was texting back.
Of course. Benedick to your Beatrice. Okay, I’ll allow it.
A slow smile spread across my face, and the warm glow intensified. He remembered my Faire name. Maybe I wasn’t just another wench in another town to him.
He sent another text: Much cuter than my date. Followed by a photo of a tall glass of beer. Something dark.
I approve of your date as well, I texted back. Though there’s plenty to be jealous of there too, you know.
Oh really? How so?
I caught my breath as I realized what I’d texted. I’d been thinking about that tall glass. His mouth on its edge, the tip of his tongue licking foam off his lips. And I’d been jealous. Of a glass of beer. Maybe this was getting a little too intimate. But what the hell.
I wish I could have kissed you at midnight. Is that a bad thing to wish? My fingers were uncertain on the keys, and it took two tries to send the text. Was that too much? It shouldn’t be; I’d slept with the man, for God’s sake. But our emails over the past few months felt more intimate than anything I’d shared in his bed. I’d been getting to know the man he was inside, not just how he liked to have sex. Through our emails, I felt like I’d met him for the first time all over again. But while we’d shared the secrets of our hearts, we hadn’t talked attraction, either from our past encounters or the new intimacy blooming between us. Kissing him now would feel like kissing him for the first time, and I ached for it.
My last text was delivered, then it was read. Then my phone was silent, and dread swirled in the pit of my stomach. I’d gone too far. I’d ruined it. But then the dots came.
No.
No? I scrunched up my face as I read those words. What the hell did that mean?
But he wasn’t done. More dots.
That’s a perfect wish. Because I wish it too. More than anything.
My breath caught. Oh thank God.
He was still typing. Times like this, especially when it’s late at night, I think about you more than I probably should. Think about how your hair would feel between my fingers. Think about how your lips would taste. Your mouth. Those are the things I think about when it’s this late at night, when my mind goes crazy with wondering and wanting.
I pressed my palms to my suddenly very warm cheeks and kicked my legs out from under the blankets, disturbing the cat. When had this room gotten so warm? But if he could confess those things, so could I. I dug my phone out from the blankets to see he hadn’t finished. Sorry. Probably shouldn’t have texted all that. Maybe had one beer too many.
I giggled as my thumbs flew over the keyboard. A couple tequilas too many over here, but that’s okay. I know what you mean. I was just thinking how new this all feels, getting to know you this way. And how much I want you to kiss me for the first time all over again.
There was a longer pause before he answered. I want that too. More than you know. Good night, Anastasia. Happy New Year.
Happy New Year, Dex.
I went to sleep with a smile on my face and a purring cat curled around my head. This new year was starting off pretty damn well.
Eight
January brought enough snow that some days I had to leave for work a good fifteen minutes earlier so I could scrape off the car and warm it up. On those days I didn’t have time for my mother to call when I was on my way out the door. Which was, of course, exactly when the landline on my wall rang. Mom’s direct line to me when she wanted to talk.
“Ugh, Mom!” I tried to let out all the frustration in that one growl under my breath before I picked up the phone so she wouldn’t hear it in my voice. She knew my schedule; this was not a good time to talk. I blew out all the negativity and picked up the receiver.
“Hey, Mom.” There. My voice was nice and light and breezy. Typical Stacey. “I’m on my way to work, can’t really talk. Can I drop by tonight?”
“Hey, Princess.” I froze at the sound of my dad’s voice. He never called; he wasn’t a phone guy. We usually communicated by him telling Mom to tell me something, and me telling her what to tell him back. So his voice on the phone was the first alarm bell in my head. The second was the hesitant, tired way he spoke. He’d said only two words, but he sounded just like he had the day he’d called me from the hospital, that first time that Mom had . . .
“Dad? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Forming words was harder than usual. My mouth didn’t seem to want to work right.
“Everything’s fine. We’re at the hospital—”
I dropped my backpack purse to the floor, and I was lucky I didn’t fumble the phone as well. “If you’re at the hospital, everything is not fine. Is it Mom?”
“Yes, but don’t worry. She wasn’t feeling right last night, so we went to the emergency room. They took her right in, and—”
“Last night?” I screeched. “And you’re just calling me now?” I started mentally flicking through the schedule at work. Was it a full day? How screwed would they be if I called in, and how much did I care? Not too much, I decided, and not at all.
“You know your mother.” Dad’s voice broke through my scrambling thoughts. “She wouldn’t let me call you until morning. She didn’t want you to worry.”
“Okay, but I’m worried now. Look, let me call in to work real quick, and I can be at the hospital in about fifteen minutes.”
“No, no. Don’t do that, your mother will kill me. I wasn’t supposed to call you till they’ve finished running tests. Just go to work, and keep your phone on you if you can, okay? I know you’re not supposed to . . .”
“Oh, the hell with that,” I said. “I’ll keep my phone in my pocket, and they can fire me if they don’t like it. You call me the second you hear something, okay?”
I barely remembered the drive to work. My mind was five years in the past, replaying that first phone call from my dad from the emergency room. He’d tried to downplay Mom’s condition and his worry, but that time he hadn’t stopped me from joining him at the hospital. That itself was what made me go to work that day. Mom never wanted me to worry, but Dad had a hard time going through this stuff alone. We’d clocked lots of hours together, side by side in waiting rooms. Once Mom was okay we went back to basically talking through her, but during a crisis he needed me.
So the fact that he didn’t need me today was encouraging. But I still took my phone out of my backpack when I got to work and turned it to vibrate. I was about to slip it into my pocket when instead I unlocked it. Before I had a chance to think about it, I sent a text to Dex. Mom’s in the hospital. I wasn’t sure why I did it; we didn’t usually text during the day. Our time was at night. But I felt like I had to tell someone, and no one else in my immediate circle knew my history with my mom’s health. Not on the level that I’d told Dex about it. So I sent that text and then slipped my phone into my pocket.
Almost immediately it vibrated and I dug it out, expecting it to be Dad with an update. But to my surprise, it was Dex. Oh shit. Is she okay?
I don’t know yet, I responded. Dad’s going to update me as soon as he knows. I’m at work. I winced as I hit Send. When I wrote it out like that, I looked like a real jerk. Why had I gone to work today? I should have been with my parents.
But Dex’s response didn’t judge me. I’m sure he’ll let you know something soon. I’d tell you not to worry, but of course you’re worried. Let me know if you need distraction.
I’ll definitely need distraction. Just no dick pics, okay?
Ha! Not exactly my style.
I blinked at that. Dick pics were a hundred percent Dex’s style. In fact, I was frankly surprised that he had never sent me one. Or any other picture of himself or some other l
ickable part of his body. Now that we’d adopted text messages as our major form of communication, I had figured it was only a matter of time. After all, this was the guy who’d sent me more than one U up? text the first summer we’d hooked up. Maybe he really had changed.
I put my purse in its drawer, and before I opened the office for the day I ducked in to see the office manager. Lindsay and I had been cheerleaders together at Willow Creek High, and while we hadn’t been besties, she was the one who’d hooked me up with this job when I’d needed one. And sure, in some ways it was weird to have an old high school classmate essentially be my boss. But she was also a friend, and I knew I could count on her on a day like this.
As usual, she was the first one here, so I wasn’t surprised to see her already behind her computer, frowning at something on her screen.
“Hey.” I kept my voice low so she wouldn’t jump out of her chair, and I flashed her a weak smile when she looked up. “Real quick, I need to keep my phone out today.” I took it out of my pocket and waved it in illustration. “My mom’s . . . uh, she’s . . .” To my surprise, I couldn’t say it out loud. I could text that she was in the hospital, but saying the words out loud made it more real.
As it turned out, I didn’t need to say anything. “Oh, God, yes, of course.” Her brow furrowed in concern. “Is she . . . Is she gonna be okay?” There was that good thing about small towns. I didn’t have to explain. Everyone just knew.
She’d already risen to her feet with her Concerned Face on, which just made me revert back to my usual smile. The one that said Nothing’s wrong! Everything’s great! Nothing to see here! “Oh, she’s going to be fine,” I said in the sunniest voice I could manage. “I’m just waiting for Dad to call, and he gets worried if he can’t get hold of me right away, you know?”
Lindsay nodded slowly and sat back down. “Well, don’t worry about it. If Dr. Cochran says anything, I’ll take care of it. And when your dad calls, if you need some privacy, feel free to come in here. I think I’m the only one with a door that shuts.”
And that way she’d be the first to know what was going on. But that was the trade-off, wasn’t it?
I went to unlock the front door, fully expecting to spend the morning on pins and needles while I waited for a call from my dad. I knew it would be a while before I heard from him—hospitals were notoriously slow—but that was a good thing, right? If there was something seriously wrong with Mom, they’d move a lot faster, and Dad would have called by now. It was all well and good that Mom didn’t want me to worry, but we were past that now.
My phone first buzzed about fifteen minutes after we opened for the day. My heart leapt into my throat at the vibration against my hip, but it only buzzed once, so it was a text, not a phone call. If Dad was barely a phone call guy, he definitely wasn’t a texting guy. When the lobby was quiet I slipped my phone out of my pocket to see a picture of a Starbucks drink, something iced and so pale I wondered if there had ever been any coffee in there at all. It’s not pumpkin spice, the accompanying text said, but I told you I take a lot of cream.
The picture and its caption made me smile. You’re not kidding, I texted back. Did you just get a cup of milk with some ice in it? His response was a shrug emoji, and when nothing else was forthcoming, I put my phone away, turning my attention back to the mother and daughter who had come in for a yearly checkup.
My phone buzzed again about twenty minutes later. Another text. Another picture, this time of a pony dressed up as a unicorn. Meant to send you this over the weekend! I met this unicorn at the faire we’re currently working. He says he wants to come to Willow Creek soon.
I sucked in an excited breath, because while on the outside I was twenty-seven and mature as hell, on the inside I was still a nine-year-old who squealed at the sight of a unicorn. Simon would love that, I responded. Send me that unicorn’s digits and I’ll put him in touch with someone who can make that happen!
It’ll probably be people you’ll be dealing with, not the unicorn. Unicorns don’t have thumbs and have a hard time operating a smartphone.
Well, have his people contact my people, then. I grinned as I hit Send and put my phone away again.
The rest of the morning went like that—a text a couple times an hour from Dex, with a random thought or a meme he pulled off the internet. It hit me, after the fourth or fifth innocuous text, that not once did he ask if I’d heard from my dad or how my mom was doing. He was distracting me, just as he’d promised. He was also making me accustomed to the feel of my phone vibrating in my pocket, so by the time my dad finally called, a little before lunchtime, I didn’t jump out of my skin the way I would have if my phone had been silent all morning.
“She’s fine,” he said without preamble. “Indigestion, can you believe it?”
“Are you kidding?” Lindsay had already left for lunch, so I ducked into her office and left the door cracked so I could still keep an eye on the lobby. I’d already switched the phones over to the answering machine; it was only five minutes early, no one would notice.
“Your mother said the same thing,” he said. “But it’s true. She’s got a prescription for an antacid and we’re following up with an ear, nose, and throat guy later this week. It’s got nothing to do with her heart. She’s fine.”
It took a few frantic heartbeats for his words to sink in, and while they did, I’d taken a seat in one of the little chairs in front of Lindsay’s desk, my knees shaking too much to keep me upright. “She’s fine,” I echoed.
“Well, she’s cranky as hell and I’m taking her home for a nap. But otherwise, yes.”
I blew out a long, relieved breath, and my shoulders relaxed for the first time since he’d called that morning. “Thanks, Dad. Just . . . I was so . . .” My throat closed, and I had to cough hard before I could speak again. “It was just so much like last time. When—”
“I know.” His voice was as somber as mine. “I know, Princess. But she’s fine. It’s not like last time at all.”
“Okay.” A few more breaths, and I was breathing normally again. “How about I pick up something for dinner tonight? I can be home about six or so.”
“Oh, that would be great. Thanks, honey.”
I managed to keep it together until we hung up, then the leftover adrenaline coursed through me, making me shake and my breath turn into barely-there sobs. She was okay. Mom was okay. But my mind was full of memories of that first frantic trip to the hospital, finding Dad in the waiting room, seeing Mom hooked up to machines . . .
But that was then. This was now. And she was fine this time.
I pushed to my feet and nudged the office door the rest of the way open. Lunchtime, but I wasn’t sure if I could eat. My emotions had been on a roller coaster this morning, and my stomach felt jumpy from it all. But I got my purse out of its drawer and locked the front door behind me on the way out. Getting out of the office would be good for me, at the very least.
I took my phone out of my pocket and let my feet carry me blindly down the sidewalk to the deli. I had one more text to send.
All good with Mom. Thanks for keeping me company this morning. It helped more than you’ll ever know.
It didn’t take long for him to text back. I’m glad I could be there. Well, not THERE. But you know what I mean.
A smile flickered over my face. It had been a tough morning, but I’d smiled more than I’d expected to. And that was all thanks to the man I was texting. This was the next best thing. This would have been a tough day if I’d been all alone.
You’ll never be alone. Not if I have anything to say about it.
I wanted to hug the phone to my chest, but even I knew that would look a little weird. Instead I went to slide it into my bag when it chimed again. Wait. Did that sound stalkery? I promise I’m not a creep.
I snorted. You’re definitely not a creep. I’ll let it slide.
Thank God. But he was s
till typing. I have to get back to work now, but I’m glad your mom is doing all right.
Me too, I texted back. I put my phone in my bag and pushed open the door of the deli. I wasn’t hungry now, but I would be later tonight. And so would my parents. I put in an order for three large sandwiches and a vat of chicken soup that I could pick up on my way home from work. By the time I got back to work for the afternoon, it felt more like a regular workday. I’d see my parents tonight, as I did almost every night, and no one would be hooked up to anything. Everything was back to normal. I was relieved.
But I was frustrated too. My brow furrowed at that realization. And at the realization that those texts with Dex this morning, as innocuous as they were, had been the best part of my day. They’d been a glimpse at another life, and now they were gone, and my regular life faded back to gray. I felt the bars of that golden cage closing in on me. Again.
I had no one to blame but myself. Hadn’t I chosen this cage? Willingly walked into it and locked the door behind me? I didn’t know what it would take to finally break out of it.
But that wasn’t worth thinking about now. Not after a day like this. My parents needed me, so golden cage it was. At least for a while.
Nine
Now that Dex and I had added texting to our communications, our relationship had leveled up. Every notification was a hit of adrenaline to my system. Every ping on my phone felt like a kiss.
As winter melted into spring, I tried telling myself it was no big deal. The relationship was still just words on the screen, no matter the format. It didn’t get me a date on Friday nights, or someone to kiss on Valentine’s Day. So really, how much of an impact were these conversations having on my life?