Crap. I did it again. Hit send without thinking. Who do I like? Who is this person? It’s not a lie. I like his words. I spend my day looking forward to writing to him, hearing his thoughts on stuff. But to just come out and say “I like you” without knowing who he is, with this ridiculous imbalance—he knows who I am, probably where I live—is just plain stupid. I’m asking for some sort of cosmic smackdown. Can I take it back? How do I do that? Do I just let it lie, enjoy for a moment that a guy—and yes, I realize I say that hopefully, that he is an actual guy from Wood Valley and not some sort of joke, or something totally weird I hadn’t thought of, like a cop who tries to catch child predators online or something—actually likes me? Me. I’m not sure that, other than maybe in sixth grade, when Leo Springer passed me a note that said Let’s go out!!! and was then my boyfriend for approximately twenty-two hours because I forgave the excessive punctuation but not his excessive hand sweating, which I later felt bad about when it turned out he had a serious glandular issue, any guy has ever said anything like those words to me: “I like you.” Screw it. I’m going to take a moment to revel.
No. This is too weird. I’m not reveling.
I’m freaking out.
Me: This is too weird. I don’t even KNOW WHO YOU ARE. Let’s dial it back.
SN: dial it back from “I like you”? okay, not sure what that means.
SN: I like you in my world means I think you’re cool, whatever. relax, lady, i’m not proposing.
Me: Shut up. It’s just. Forget it.
SN: it’s just, what?
Me: Never mind. Seriously, forget it.
SN: come on. tell me.
Me: It’s just weird that you know who I am and I don’t know who you are. It’s not fair.
SN: life isn’t fair.
Me: Fine. Whatever. Gotta go.
I put my phone down for a second. I’m angry. Deflated. So he doesn’t like me, he just thinks I’m cool. It wasn’t like I was saying he thinks I’m the best thing in the world. It’s just…It felt good to be liked, whatever that means.
SN: wait, stop. come back. I’m sorry.
Me: And?
SN: it’s just that I like talking to you here. like this. I meant it. I do like you. irl, you make me nervous or something. it would just be different to actually talk-talk. and this works, right?
Me: Yeah. But…
SN: I’ll give you three more things: (1) I like music and books and video games more than people. people make me awkward. (2) I used to sleep with a blanket when I was little, which I called…wait for it…Blanket, and okay, fine, I still do. (3) a year ago, I was a totally different person.
Me: Why? Who were you?
SN: happy. or happier. simpler. a bit more normal, if that’s even a thing.
Me: And then…
A long beat. I wait.
SN: my sister died. suddenly. long story. and now. well, you know how it is.
Me: Yeah.
SN: your mom died, right? am I allowed to ask that?
Me: How did you
SN: Theo. I mean, he didn’t tell me, but someone told me that you’re his stepsister, so I sort of put it together. is it okay that I asked you that? I seem to have lost all sense of what you are allowed to say to people.
Me: Yes, it’s okay. To ask, I mean. The fact of it is…well, not okay. I don’t know. It’s…
SN: yeah, it’s.
Me: Right.
SN: how long ago?
Me: 765 days, five hours, twenty-two minutes. You?
SN: 196 days, one hour, three minutes.
Me: You count too?
SN: I count too.
I think about SN’s sister. I don’t know why, but I picture a twelve-year-old girl, pigtails, sick. But of course that’s all in my imagination. I have too many questions: How old was she? How did she die? Then again, she’s no longer here. That’s what matters. The “hows” are, again, mere detail.
Later. Not now. Maybe I’ll ask later.
SN: so yesterday, I saw a rainbow, and my annoying phone was dead from IMing with you, and it was almost like it didn’t happen because I didn’t take a picture. please tell me you saw it too.
SN: because sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind. I want to know for a fact that it happened. you know that feeling?
I pause. Yesterday, on my way to work, it rained for no more than thirty seconds—the first rain I’ve experienced since moving here—and then the clouds shifted, and yes, SN is right. There was part of a rainbow, arched across half of the sky, so rainbowlike in its rainbowness it made me feel almost silly, like I lived in a cartoon. And I’m embarrassed to admit it, but for a second, I thought it was a message from my mom, or that somehow it was her, in a way that I could not and still cannot explain. I took a picture but didn’t bother to Instagram it. I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to be all free-spiritish, which I am not. In any way. Should I send it to SN?
Me: I saw it too.
I find the picture on my phone. No need to even use a filter, because unlike absolutely everything else, it is perfect as is. Hit send.
? ? ?
You have an IM from Liam Sandler.