If You're Out There(23)

“Sure.” Nick waves his free hand. “Have at it.” He retrieves a phone from deep inside his pajama pocket, does some typing, and hands it over. “Pretty astonishing, really.” He collapses into a puffy green armchair by the window. “Five little lines to rip my sodding heart out.”

I take the couch across from him, my stomach clamping down with the words.

From: Priya Patel <[email protected]>

To: Nicholas Reid <[email protected]>

Date: Mon, Jul 2, 9:42 pm

Subject: Re: You okay?

Dear Nick,

I’m sorry it’s come to this, but I think we should see other people. Please don’t try to change my mind. It’s hard to explain but I can feel myself moving on and so should you. California is great and I’m happy here. Take care of yourself. --Priya

Logan sits to read over my shoulder. “Brutal. Sorry, man.”

I stare down at the screen. “What a”—I can’t believe I’m saying it—“bitch.”

“I wonder why she ended things with Nick but left you in the dark,” says Logan.

I shrug. “Maybe she knew I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“I don’t know,” he says. “She could have put you out of your misery if she wanted. Or tried, at least.”

“Well . . .” Something is nagging at me. “I never actually tried this email address. We still have our silly old ones from middle school. We only used them for each other. Martini-weeny-bikini? Priya-wouldn’t-wanna-be-ya? We still loved them, but we couldn’t exactly use them for summer job applications.”

Logan appears incredulous. “So, what, you think if you emailed her on her grown-up account she would have responded and everything would be normal between you two? You left her voice mails, and texts. Not to mention that whole back-and-forth the other day that she cut off out of nowhere. If you ask me, the girl is playing games.”

“No.” I scrunch my eyes shut and press my fingers to them. “Priya doesn’t do games. She hates games—well, actually she loves games. But games like Taboo and Scattergories . . .” Nick nods appreciatively. “She doesn’t play people games.” I’m getting flustered. “I don’t know why, but it feels like this address might matter.” My heart is speeding up. There’s a bad, sick feeling creeping up. “And she doesn’t sign her name that way.”

Nick frowns. “What do you mean?”

I sit up straighter. I don’t care how it sounds. “With the double dash. She doesn’t do that.”

Nick shares a quick glance with Logan, as if agreeing they should proceed with caution. “Zan.” Nick says it gently, like I’m either breakable or deranged. “People change. It seems that moving to California has brought out a new side of Priya. One that may have already been in the making, and that neither of us could have anticipated. People get swept up in their lives. They try out different selves. Maybe she’s the sort of person who uses double dashes now.” He thinks for a moment. “Do you know that people here call me ‘British Nick’? Here in this country, at this university, I am British Nick. It’s fantastic. Everyone thinks I’m so funny and charming. Someone actually called me ‘nerdy-chic’ the other day. Me! I referred to a professor as a ‘wanker’ and had people laughing and fawning all over me. I wasn’t especially funny or charming in England. Over there, everyone has this accent. Everyone says wanker, and I am just plain old Nick.”

“So you think she’s getting swept up in something? Trying out a new identity?”

“Maybe,” he says. “It’s hard to imagine, but . . . well, who knows? The fact is we can’t know. Because she doesn’t want to tell us!” He tips the bag up above his open mouth. “I’m coping the best I know how, Zan. I suggest you do the same. The sooner you let it go, the sooner you’ll feel better.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You just said your nightly snack is the highlight of your life.”

“Well,” he says with a smirk. “Coping is a process.”

“Well, I don’t want to cope,” I say. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t particularly want to let it go either.” I take out my phone and start typing as fast as my fingers will let me. “I want her to tell me the truth. I don’t care if I look stupid, and I don’t care if it hurts. I’m trying the other email address.” I begin to check over my message but press send before there’s time to change my mind.

From: Alexandra Martini <[email protected]>

To: Priya Patel <[email protected]>

Date: Sat, Sep 8, 11:54 pm

Subject: Really?

You broke up with Nick? NICHOLAS WALLACE REID?? What is going on with you? Write me back. I’m serious.

“You’re wasting your energy,” says Nick. He sinks deeper into the armchair. “I’ve tried that address many, many times, and she’s never responded. Not since the one. As much as it kills me to accept this, I think she must really want a clean slate. For some people, when they decide something’s done, it’s really . . . done.”

“You really think so?”

He stares into the empty Combos bag. “I do.”

“Well, in that case, you’re not as smart as your nerdy-chic accent makes you sound. She responded.”