And, finally, they give me the name and phone number of the neighbor down the street who they’ve already lined up to check on Franny while I’m in Arizona.
I nod along and give them both a hug before waving them off down our long gravel driveway. Back inside, I shut the front door behind me and lean against it. A half-sigh, half-groan sputters out of me as I think back to my conversation with Drew.
All I had to do was make plans to see him. Instead, I’ve somehow agreed to a non-date-double-date with my brother, sister-in-law and my brother’s best friend who happens to have ravished me on a balcony—and subsequently ghosted me—three years ago. Oh, and he has a girlfriend.
My stomach grumbles, snapping me out of my thoughts. I head to the kitchen and stare into the fridge. A baking dish of Mom’s homemade tuna casserole lies in wait with a sticky note attached that reads,“There’s another in the freezer.”I smile—she knows it’s my favorite thing that she makes. I reach for it, but pause. I think I’m craving something else. Changing course, I retrieve the ingredients for my ultimate comfort food instead.
I’m scooping the toasted mozzarella and pesto grilled cheese sandwich onto a plate when my phone buzzes in my back pocket. Once I’m seated at the kitchen island, I pull out my phone.
Connor
Drew says you’re coming to the game next weekend.
I guess he’s texting me again. I can’t tell if it’s excitement or apprehension that churns in my belly.
Me
Yeah, maybe.
The three dots appear and disappear three times before he finally replies.
Connor
Oh. Well, I hope you can make it.
I drop my phone to the counter.Apprehension.It’s definitely apprehension.
If I go, I’ll be using Lauren’s ticket. If the roles were reversed, I’m not sure how I’d feel about my boyfriend going to the game with another woman. That’s ridiculous, though, right? It’s not like I’m a threat. Connor and I wouldn’t be theretogether. He’d just be one person sitting next to another person—adjacent humans, as it were.
Clearly, my thoughts are an incoherent mess. So, naturally, I send a panicked reply that I hope readscool as a cucumberand nothot mess express.
Me
Is Lauren okay with me using her ticket?
Three dots appear, but I reread my message and feel the need to clarify.
Me
I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.
Wait, that sounds like I think Lauren should be uncomfortable.
Me
Scratch that. I’m just trying to be respectful of her…non-single woman to single-woman, I guess.
Hot mess, Gretchen. Hot. Mess. Also, sliding in your current relationship status? Seriously?
Me
You know what, forget it. I think it’s best I bury my head in the proverbial sand from the safety of my childhood bedroom where the walls are padded, the parents are gone and the alcohol cabinet is stocked. Cheers. *insert clinking glass emoji*
I slam my phone down and groan into my hands. There was not a syllable of cucumber calm anywhere in that tapestry of word vomit.
My phone buzzes.
Connor
