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Over the next week, Jamie’s phone lit up daily with messages from Max. He was a funny guy, sending her jokes and internet memes, which she wasn’t usually fond of, but found amusing. He asked how her day was going and told her how his day was in return. She liked the steady stream of attention, but she didn’t like the uneasiness she felt over not telling him everything there was to know.
As Jamie was finishing up an album design from a June wedding she had photographed, her cell phone rang. She almost didn’t answer when she saw her friend Quinn’s name on the screen. When Quinn called, it usually meant she wanted to go out for a night of bar-hopping, but Jamie answered anyway.
“Hey, Quinn!”
“Jamie! How are you, girl?”
“Good. What’s up?”
“A bunch of us are going out tonight. You in?”
“Can’t.”
Quinn groaned. “Come on! It’s been months since we’ve seen you. Come out with us.”
“No can do.”
“You never say no to a party, are you sick?”
“Not sick. Pregnant.”
Silence.
“Quinn? Are you still there?”
“Wow! I can’t believe you got yourself knocked up.”
“I know, but it’ll be good.”
“You could still come out. You don’t have to drink.”
“I don’t think that’s my scene anymore,” Jamie told her.
“Why’s that?”
“Something pretty important happened in my life recently.”
“Oh, girl. Are you in AA?”
“No, nothing like that. I went to church with my parents and—”
Quinn snorted. “Oh no, we lost you to the Bible-bashers?”
Jamie shook her head. She could picture Quinn pretending to gag and rolling her heavily mascara’d eyes that matched her jet black hair. “Not Bible-bashers, Quinn. My parents.”
“Yeah, you know how I feel about organized religion.”
“I know, and I thought the same thing, but I changed my mind.”
“Well, good for you.”
“Maybe we can go to dinner sometime and catch up, though,” Jamie offered.
“Yeah, maybe some other time. I’ll call ya.”
“Okay, that sounds—”
Quinn hung up.