Tell Me Three Things(27)

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.



Liam: Can you work tomorrow after school? Band practice.

Me: Sure.

Liam: You are a lifesaver.



? ? ?

Me: You ever realize how many of our day-to-day expressions are about death? Like someone just called me a lifesaver.

SN: yeah. since, you know…it’s everywhere. dead meat. my mom’s going to kill me. died and went to heaven. but the worst part? as soon as someone says it, they look at me all apologetically. like I’m going to be offended or freak out or something. so whose life did you save?

Me: Just taking an extra shift at work.

SN: that’s nice of you.

Me: Not really doing it out of the goodness of my heart. Will do anything for extra cash.

SN: hmm…anything?



? ? ?

You have an IM from Ethan Marks.



Ethan: From Merriam-Webster: Tuber: “a short, thick, round stem that is a part of certain plants (such as the potato), that grows underground, and that can produce a new plant.”



An IM from Ethan. Eight p.m. on a Thursday night. Which meant he was thinking about me, because you can’t message someone without thinking about them first, right? Or maybe he was thinking about “The Waste Land,” which isn’t exactly the same as thinking about me, but close enough. The poem and I are now aligned. I’ll take it. This is the sort of ridiculous analysis you engage in when you have a ridiculous crush.