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Seb:And that I couldn’t come

Me:You can grace him with your presence next time

Laying the phone on my stomach, I stare at the old posters on the wall across from the bed. It looks like the 2000s threw up in here thanks to the images ofMy Chemical RomanceandOne Tree Hillhanging there. I used to have an extensive CD collection of angsty music that I loved listening to growing up before CDs became extinct. Now the shelves are mostly empty, save a few books from old college classes that I don’t know what to do with.

Nibbling my lip, I lift my phone and thumb out another message to the ones I’ve left unanswered for a while now.

Me:I haven’t used your gift yet

Wetting my lips, I stare at the number that I still haven’t saved. Clicking it, I edit the contact and bite down on my inner cheek as my fingers hover over the keyboard.

Bubbles appear at the bottom.

#43:That’s a shame

Me:So Fishtail?

#43:I was in town

Me:That’s a shame

#43:Why is that?

Me:Because I wasn’t there

#43:Good thing you have a vibrator to think about me to tide you over

Me:In your dreams, O’Conner

#43:Only my dirtiest

There’s a knock at my door before Mom pokes her head inside. “Can I come in?”

Sitting up on the bed, I turn my screen off and set my phone down. “Sure. Was Dad still alive by the time you were done with him?”

“He deserved everything I said to him.”

“I think I heard you call him a ‘bitch boy,’” I muse, stretching my legs out over the side of the bed to give her room to sit beside me. “And I’m positive I heard—”

“Like I said,” she cuts me off, “he deserved everything I called him. What I want to know is howyou’refeeling?”

I already told her I was fine, but she doesn’t seem to believe me. “I’m okay. Really. Sure, I’m annoyed with him, but what’s new? He’ll never change. You’ve said that before too.”

Those minty eyes everyone says they’re jealous of dull with sadness. “I hate that for you, though. It makes me want to…” She thinks about it. “Well, I don’t know. It makes me want to do nothing legal, that’s for sure.”

I snort. “You’re too pretty for jail, Mom.”

She playfully nudges me. “It was lovely of Bodhi to swoop in for the rescue. I’m glad you two are friends.”

Despite knowing what he feels like inside of me, friends seem like the perfect way to describe what we are. “Me too. And I ate some of the best ice cream of my life after the shitstorm of a lunch. So it turned the day around.”

She pats my leg supportively. “I’m happy to hear that then.”

We fall into silence for a few seconds.

I glance down at my phone, but no new messages pop up.

“Mom?” I ask quietly.