“I fucked up,” I tell them. “That’s nothing new, I guess, but this time I can't even remember what I did.”
“Did something happen at the library?” Ty asks.
“Yea, a lot. But that’s not even the half of it... God, she’s still so pissed at me, you know? And she keeps saying shit like I know what I did, and I rejected them and all that. But it’s fucking cryptic. So I lost my mind a little and told her to explain. I told her I needed to know exactly what her beef with me is.”
“Okay. I’m guessing it didn’t go well?” Ty says, wincing in anticipation.
“She told me I rejected her. Her and Rose. She said she texted to say she was pregnant, and I told her it was her problem. But what the actual fuck? I’d never say that. I’d never even think that, but…”
“But nothing,” Whit says, interrupting. “You were a wreck that summer. If she’d have reached out to you for any reason, you’d have done anything she asked.”
“That’s just it. I did text her. I just don’t know what the hell I wrote. Remember? We were all at Ollie’s cabin, and I got wasted off my ass and drunk-texted like a fucking fool. I have no clue what I said, but it must have been fucking awful. All she’ll say is shit likeyou know what you saidorI can’t get over those texts.And Idon’tknow what I said because I was shitfaced and then I lost my phone a couple days later, so I can’t even cheat and look!”
“Hold on. Texts?” Whit asks.
“Yea. Shit, I feel like human garbage. What could my brain have possibly vomited to make her mistrust me so much? Like, we have these great moments, but there’s this underlying tension. It’s as though she’s just waiting for me to turn back into Captain Asshole.”
“You’re talking about the texts you sent that night we all got fucked up at Ollie’s cabin? Booker sat on marshmallows and was convinced he was going to get eaten alive by a bear?”
“Yea, And Ollie hooked up with that chick whose family was camping nearby. But then he found out she was his ex’s little sister,” I laugh at the memory. “It was a good weekend until I ruined it all by texting God-knows-what.”
Whit takes the pan off the heat. That’s how I know he’s serious. Whatever he’s about to say next requires his full attention. “What?” I ask. “Why are you looking at me like that? I already know I’m a dumbass.”
“You are a dumbass. But you didn’t send those texts.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t remember a lot, but I vividly recall sitting by the fire and texting Willa. I got it in my head that if I wrote her poetry, she’d come back to me. Christ only knows what I wrote.Roses are red/Violets are blue/Like my balls/Let me back into your pussy, or some shit. Whatever it was, I said exactly the wrong thing. It changed the course of my fucking life.”
He shakes his head. “You’re not listening to me. You never sent those texts.”
I prop my elbows on the counter and rub my forehead. “Yes, I did. I just told you; I remember writing them.”
“Yea, you wrote them. But you didn’t send them,” he says, placing the pan back on the heat and pouring in a half bottle of wine.
“How would you know?”
He shrugs. “Cause I deleted them. Well, Booker and I did. Ok, it was mostly me, but Booker took a video—shit. Booker took a video of me reading your stupid-ass poetry before I deleted it. Said it was insurance for when you got pissed at us.”
“Wait—are you serious?”
“Uh, yea. I remember it fondly. You’re a terrible poet.”
“Do you still have the video?”
“I don’t, but Booker probably does. That boy doesn’t delete anything—not texts, not photos, not emails. It’s his lone character flaw.” Whit turns toward the steps and hollers, “Booker William Zabek, get your fine ass down here!”
“I’m studying,” Booker calls back.
“I don’t care,” Whit returns in a sing-song voice. “We gotta clear something up. Bring your phone.”
Thirty seconds later, Booker’s bounding down the stairs. He hands his phone to Whit and grabs an apple from the fruit bowl.
Whit gasps. “Dude. This is ridiculous. You know that, right? You have 48,987 emails.”
“I know,” Book replies around bites of apple.
“Does this not drive you crazy? Does this not make you twitch? Your storage is always full, dude. That’s not normal.”
Booker smirks. “You’re not normal. Now why did you drag me down here? And when’s dinner gonna be ready? I’m starving.”
