Ink & Interruptions

            The fan whirred over me. I think it had made at least 600 laps by now. The blades wobbled slightly, and the base shifted more than it should have. I should run it on low—the landlord said as much when he showed me the house, but there was something satisfying about the noise and the push of the air through my room that kept me from playing it safe. I mean what’s the worst that happens? It falls while I’m asleep and crushes me. Okay, yeah, that sounded bad. The air from the blades moved across my face. But how likely is that? The blades kept spinning—my eyes locked on the movement as my brain sputtered out.  

            I’d gotten home over an hour ago, and while I wasn’t quite sure how long I’d held Kyle, I do remember watching Henry and Jenna’s vehicles pull out of the parking lot—my arms still firmly around him. My breath came easier as their blinkers flashed opposite of each other. Kyle and I stayed there a little longer, our bodies pressed together as I waited for him to step back. I’d thought about pulling away decades before that, but it was Kyle and us and Uncle George. God, why Uncle George? Hadn’t Kyle been through enough. Oh, and why in the world hadn’t my mom told me.  

            Kyle’s words echoed in my mind. “I called last week and told your mom. I didn’t want her to see me and be surprised.” I am not sure what contortions my face made, but he’d quickly followed it with, “I didn’t know how to get ahold of you.” It had taken biting my tongue—my teeth leaving imprints on the flesh—and reminding myself that Uncle George was sick to keep from spitting out the fact that I had the same number—the same ten digits since my dad convinced my mom to let me get a phone in junior high. The same numbers Kyle had entered into every phone he’d ever used to contact me. And I knew for a fact he had it memorized because Aunt Julia had made each of us learn the other’s number—swearing that if we relied on each other in that stage of our relationship, the rest of it would come naturally. But fine, if he wanted to pretend, he forgot them or that I got new ones, that’s fine. I’m fine. I balled the blanket into my fists. Breathe. I pushed out the air sitting in my lungs, my body relaxing as my chest sank further into the bed. Those numbers are clearly part of the collection of details that ‘don’t matter.’  My body went rigid again. Why was this bothering me so much? We both wanted out of the relationship. Didn’t we? I pressed the palms of my hands into my eyes—pushing against them until pain shot into the back of my skull. I needed to think of something else—anything else.  

            I dropped my hands back to my side and watched as the fan continued to whirr. Mom knew. Mom knew, and she hadn’t told me. I tried to explain away the new ache that was taking root in my chest—rising from the pit I’d created all those months ago. Then again, Kyle hadn’t said when he’d told her. He’d probably told her today—just like me. Yes, that’s it. He told her today, and she’s just figuring out how to tell me. I looked at the black screen of my phone as it rested on my stomach.  

            “What the actual hell is wrong with her?” The words sounded harsh as my vocal cords flexed around sound for the first time since I’d left Kyle in the parking lot of the bar. I knew mom and I weren’t on the best of terms, but Uncle George was sick. Really sick according to Kyle, and she couldn’t be bothered to send me a text. It’s late. That’s why.  I thought, trying once again to explain away the blank phone screen. It’s late…she’s asleep. I propped myself up on my elbow to get a better look at the clock that rested on the dresser across the room. 8:30 p.m. Okay, it’s late for her. 

            I collapsed back into my pillows and pulled my phone up to my face, tapping the screen awake. My room was dark, so the phone struggled to recognize my face, trying over and over again until finally prompting me for my passcode. I typed in the four numbers and blinked as the phone opened to my message app. The cursor and the half written text to my mom still staring back at me. My thumb quickly tapped on the delete key, and I felt the root in my chest grow another branch as each word vanished—the silence of the past six months settling around me again. I swiped out of the app, and was surprised to see that the notification bubble showed three unread texts. I never got texts from anyone except mom and dad—well more so just dad now, and those were always short conversations.  

Dad: Checking in. You alive?

Me: Yes, Dad. I’m alive. I told you this place is great.  

Dad: Sure. Love you.

            That was it—the same conversation with different words every week. My mom used to text me all the time. Most of them were social media videos she thought were funny, hardly any of them were, and her rambling thoughts for the day, but bare minimum there were always a “good morning,” a “good night,” and at least two “love you” messages.  The branch now had leaves—each one bursting from the quickly growing tree in my chest, every part taking up more space—making it hard to breathe. New plan. Get friends. I sighed. And a life. 

            “I’m such a loser.” I whispered as I clicked back into my messaging app.   

            I fully expected to see three spam messages, announcing some new product or telling me my car’s extended warranty was up, but instead I had two messages from unknown numbers, and one from Kyle. Well so much for thinking about something else. I clicked open the first unknown number. I would work my way slowly to Kyle. I needed to seriously consider the two spam messages first—you never know, they could have good deals tonight. God, I need a hobby. 

            I pushed aside my thoughts and let my eyes focus on the message that was now hovering above the text bar on my screen.  

(001) 555-4921: Hey girl, I just wanted to text and say thanks for going out tonight.

            Great, a wrong number—guess I’m down to one spam message. I tapped out a quick reply explaining that they had a wrong number, went back to my main message screen, and opened up the next unknown number.  

(001) 555-2715: Hey, Evie. It’s Henry. I’m hoping this is still your number. I just wanted to check on you. It looked like there was a lot going on when I left the bar.”  

            The air around me felt hot, and I kicked the blankets off, letting the fan cool the rest of my skin. Guess my number isn’t that hard to remember. I tapped out a reply, read it back, then deleted it. I started again, “Hey, I can’t believe you still have my number.” Are you trying to make him feel lame? I backed my cursor through the message and sighed as I stared at the blank box. Do you think he can see that I’m typing? As the thought crossed my mind, three dots pulled up on my screen and then vanished.  

            “Shit.” Think, think, think. I tapped out a few more messages—the idea of throwing the entire phone away becoming increasingly appealing with each deleted one.  How do you say “I’m fine just dealing with my ex-fiancé and high school crush being in my life at the same time while fighting a battle with a siren from hell over said high school crush” without sounding like a disaster? I felt laughter beginning to bubble up.  

            “Can you imagine?” And as my mind took the bait, my giggling escalated alongside each imagined text, eventually ending with Henry offering to vanquish the siren on my behalf—my knight in shining armor. I’m not sure how, but I finally managed to pull myself together. “I need actual medical help.” I muttered, letting out another short laugh before pulling the phone back up to eye level. 

            After a few deep breaths and imagining my phone at the bottom of a ravine, I typed out:

Me: Yep, it’s me! Same number. Turns out if you stay on your parent’s plan, they let you keep it lol

I pressed send before I could over think it. The text below the message flashed sent. Did you really just admit to still being on your parent’s phone plan? Luckily, before I could think more on the implications of labeling myself a pathetic weirdo in fewer than twenty words, another message from the first unknown number dropped down from the top of my screen.  

            I clicked on the notification and felt my jaw drop as I read the message.  

(001) 555-4921: Nope! It’s Jenna. SURPRISE! I snagged your number from your school file. Shhhh don’t tell anyone.

The message ended with a winking emoji, a laughing one, and a heart surrounded by stars. Okay, she might actually be crazy. I re-read the message, trying to force my brain to process what was happening. Three dots popped up on the screen and then another message.

Jenna: Tonight was actually crazy! But I saw you and cutie number two hugging when Henry walked me to my car. Is it too soon to ask for details?

More laughing emojis, heart emojis, and one side eye emoji.  

            “How is this my life right now?” I grumbled as I started hammering on my phone’s keyboard, torn between a message that told her where she could shove her curiosity and a not-so-polite reminder that we weren’t friends and one night at the bar didn’t change that.  More dots. “Geez, lady, take a breath.”  

Jenna: I don’t kiss and tell, but my plan worked wonderfully.

The message felt like a bucket of ice water dumped across my nerves—each one spiraling out in different directions. Kiss? They kissed? Henry kissed Jenna? As my mind tried to find something to hold on to, another notification slid down on my phone. Henry’s number. I clicked on it and held my breath as Jenna’s message dissolved from my screen and was replaced with Henry’s  

Henry: Hey, whatever it takes to escape another bill. This adult stuff is for the birds lol.

Kiss and tell. Kiss and tell. Kiss and tell. Jenna’s message clouded my vision, and all I could see was Henry and her walking out of the bar—her arm brushing his as they headed around the building. Breathe. So what if he kissed her? I took a deep breath, forcing myself to hold onto the air for five seconds before pushing it out of my nose for the same amount of time. You didn’t go there for Henry, remember? I took another breath counting out the seconds as I inhaled and exhaled. Right. That’s right. I went there for me, not them. Another round of inhaling and exhaling.  

            “I need to get better at lying.” I tapped the text bar and watched as the cursor blinked, demanding my thoughts but offering no reassurances for how they would be received.  

Me: Right? I feel a little lied to honestly. Didn’t our parents make this whole freedom thing look fun?

I stared at the text for a moment and then added,

Sorry I had to leave early. I hope the rest of the evening with Jenna was fun.

I knew I was digging for information, and I probably shouldn’t, especially since I didn’t go to the bar for them, and I was definitely not at all upset they’d kissed. My thumb hovered over the delete key. I should leave it alone. I should let them have that. I don’t care. I moved my thumb lower and tapped it against the base of my phone. I sucked in my bottom lip, chewing on the skin as I read my message again. What the hell. I pressed the send button and then clicked back to my general message screen, too scared to watch the dots hover as they captured his reply.  

            Jenna’s message stared back at me, and below that, the blue dot beside Kyle’s name felt like the high beams on an approaching truck, bright and painful every second until the other driver remembered to shut them off. I could see the first few words of Kyle’s message:  

Kyle: Hey, I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry again for tonight and…

The ‘and…’ made my mind reel, trying to fill in the blanks.  

            …and it turns out I do have your number.

            …and I’m a complete asshole for leaving you.

            …and I still love you.

            The last thought made my heart stop. Is that what I wanted? No…right? Nothing had changed. Kyle and I were still a plan devised by our moms—still a figment of someone else’s imagination. There was no Kyle and I without our moms, and part of that equation was gone, permanently. An ache in my heart swelled, and I couldn’t tell if it was for Kyle or for myself. As I attempted to unravel that feeling, my phone buzzed, and Henry’s number appeared at the top of my screen. My heart fluttered inside my chest, and it worked to bat away the feelings that had stirred at the thought of Kyle and me. 

Henry: It was alright. I had a hard time focusing though seeing how you ran out of the building like it was on fire which brings me back to my first message. Are you okay?  

            Hard time focusing? Like he was in a trance and didn’t remember being kissed, or like he was never kissed in the first place? You’re really invested for someone who doesn’t care. I rolled my eyes and laid the phone down—the heat bleeding through my t-shirt, matching the heat that was coursing under my skin. I watched the fan spin, my eyes working their way from the base out—each blade losing its individuality the further I got to the edge. My phone buzzed against my skin.  

            “Jenna, chill out.” I pulled the phone to my face, and was surprised to see that Henry had sent another message.

Henry: Remember, I don’t have to get it, for it to matter.

And just like that, I was the same high school girl sitting in the cab of his truck. My fingers tapped across the screen, rushed with the need to reach back out—every thought about being stupid or too much swallowed up by the memory of his green eyes holding mine.

Me: Thanks. Tonight was a lot for sure. Kyle told me his dad’s sick

My fingers paused, a moment’s hesitation as I thought through the next part,

and while we are 100% not together anymore, it was still really hard hearing that Uncle George isn’t doing well.

My heart pounded in my chest, the noise traveling up my body and settling in my ears as I tapped out the final few words.

I’m scared for Kyle.

I hit send, and as soon as the message was beyond reach, my mind kicked back into overdrive. Yep, that was definitely too much.  

            Another text dropped down into my screen.

Jenna: Did you die?

Jenna again. I closed my eyes as my annoyance began to spill over. Another buzz.

Jenna: Come on, Evie, don’t leave me hanging. I know you’re up reading.

I slammed my finger into the screen and brought back up our messages.

Me: Um, you do know we aren’t friends, right?

As my finger lowered to tap the send button, I felt my skin itch—the sensation stalling out my irritation. Press it. She would. At that thought, I moved my finger lower and erased the words. I wasn’t Jenna.  

            Sighing, I moved my fingers back and forth across the keyboard again.

Me: Nope. Still alive. I guess I’m just confused. Isn’t saying I don’t kiss and tell, telling?

Two can play this game. Guess you’re more like her than you thought.  

            “Just great.” I clicked send and then switched back to my chat with Henry. Another message appeared at the same time the screen shifted over. 

Henry: I’m sorry to hear that. I can see why you’d both be upset, especially Kyle. That’s rough. I’m not sure if I can help at all, but if I can, just let me know. Would you pass the same on to Kyle? 

            My heart softened. Of course, Henry would care about Kyle; he was good. And Kyle isn’t? The thought pushed its way to the front of my mind before I could cut it down—the traitorous thing dragging up memories of the past with it.  

            Kyle pinning my corsage to my dress, whispering that he slipped a surprise behind the rose as he bent to place a kiss on my cheek. Kyle smiling as I pulled out a small and slightly crushed daisy when we were safe inside his car.  

            “I know you aren’t into roses, but mom…well you know.” He’d reached across the car and worked with the flowers until the daisy was secure, and the rose was no more than a background color. “I just thought we’d be rebels for the night,” he’d whispered, winking as he pulled back.  

            Kyle was good. I tried to push him back—to regain control, but the memories flooded into my space, as though some dam had been opened.

            Kyle at the concert, running back and forth to the concessions to make sure I didn’t miss a single lyric. Kyle letting the album play over and over again on our way home, even after I was asleep. Kyle on his knee asking me to marry him, smiling even though I know he felt my hand shaking as I whispered ‘yes.’  

            Kyle was kind and caring. He just….well he wasn’t Henry. Yeah, and Henry’s not Kyle. 

            I shook my head, dislodging myself from the memories and forcing my eyes to refocus on the screen and message in front of me. 

Me: Of course. Thank you for understanding.

I was in the middle of typing out more when my phone buzzed again with another message from Jenna. My eyes lifted to the top of the screen.  

Jenna: Okay, you caught me. Nothing happened, but…

I tapped on the notification and sucked in a breath as the message came into full view.

Jenna: not for lack of trying. Ugh…he was just so worried about you.

Several emojis followed, but my mind was already gone—trapped between the words worried and you. Another buzz.

Jenna: I mean it was hard not to be with your dramatic exit. Not going to lie, you kinda ruined the mood.

I stared at the eye rolling emoji stamped at the end of the message. I ruined the mood? That’s rich. My hands vibrated again.

Jenna: That’s okay though I’ll forgive you if you spill the beans, Ms. X-engaged.

            “X-engaged” stared back at me from the screen. Kyle. His message was still waiting—the weight of it suddenly felt like an anchor pulling the phone down—my arms heavy from the battle of trying to hold it up. I clicked out of Jenna’s message; I had no interest in her forgiveness, but I was finally ready to face whatever waited on the other side of the ‘and…’. I clicked Kyle’s name and shuddered—the noise from the fan too loud in my ears as the air chilled my skin, causing goosebumps to race down my exposed legs. 

Kyle: Hey, I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry again for tonight and to see if you’d be free for lunch tomorrow. Dad would love to see you. 

            Part of my brain screamed no—the same part that was still very aware of my half-written text to Henry and the fact that I had ruined Jenna’s evening. The other part begged me to say ‘yes.’ To go see Uncle George. To be okay for one day. To pretend that I still had a plan for my life, and I wasn’t constantly spinning out of control. My eyes snagged on the wobbling base of the fan—still connected to the ceiling, but with every rotation of the blades, there were small moments when it separated, detaching from what it clung to, where it was supposed to be. I watched it, my eyes fixed on every moment where the base was no longer part of the ceiling—alone and adrift, if only for a second. 

            I tapped on the text bar.

Me: Sure. What time?