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Rio:There you have it. I figured you should know that before we died. LOL
Oren:God, I love you. I love that I’m the only man you can think of doing that with.
Rio:Loving you back!!
Tuesday, February 27, 2017, St. Jude—Rio messaged me this morning and told me he’s in Spain, sharing a house and a bed with a female “friend” whose bed happened to be empty. When I asked why, he texted back: “I couldn’t spend another minute with Vi.” He doesn’t know when he’ll return—he bought a one-way ticket. He seems like a nomad. The total opposite of me. Once I’d torn myself from the dirt of Locust Hollow, I’d wanted only to put down again my jagged roots.
I am surprised by how hurt I am by his news. I’d thought we were on the verge of something. I wanted to ask him why he hadn’t asked me to go with him, why he didn’t come here?Stop it, I chided myself; I know I’m acting like I’m still that lovesick teenager pining for Rio. Except then he’d been two desks away and now he’s more than halfway across the world sharing some woman’s bed on a whim. Still, hehadasked me, “do you ever fantasize about me?” Though he’d asked the question via text, I could hear it asked in that deep voice of his that had remained unchanged since puberty.
March 27, 2017
Rio:I’m baaack.
Oren:When did you get back?
Rio:Last night.
Rio:Did you miss me?
Rio:??
Sunday, April 1, 2017, St. Jude—It’s Easter Sunday today.This morning, I awoke to a text from Rio. When I turned over my phone, I saw he had sent me the cutest picture. It was of him, naked in bed except for on his head, which was propped up by his pillows, he wore a pair of pink fuzzy rabbit ears, and a collection of brightly colored plastic Easter eggs covered his crotch. “Happy Easter,” he wrote underneath.
Before I could respond, he sent another text, this one a close-up of his erection poking through the Easter eggs at his crotch. Underneath, he’d written with appalling irreverence, “He is risen.”
Rolling onto my stomach and pressing my erection into the mattress, I texted back, “He is risen, indeed!” Then, “What prompted that?”
“Lying here…thinking of you,” he texted back.
I rolled onto my back, luxuriating in the feel of my erection and the warmth of his lust. “Really?”
“Yes really, silly. I told you…I love you.”
Pondering his words and wondering how to respond, his incoming text broke my thoughts. “I hear Vi stomping around upstairs. I have to go. Text you later.”
Vi. Why are there so many women in his life?
April 20, 2017
Rio:Hey. Sorry I’ve been out of touch. Been busy.
Oren:You working on something? New music?
Rio:No. I want to take a break from music. I want to write a children’s book.
Oren:Oh…
Rio:I think you can help.
Oren:Sure. I have contacts—graphic designers, artists—who could help with stuff like illustrations, cover design, and such.
Rio:No, I meant you could help me write it.
Oren:I’m not a writer.
Rio:Modest. I read your LinkedIn profile. It says you’re a storyteller.
Oren:I helped global companies tell their stories to employees, customers, and investors to reduce attrition, build brand loyalty, and keep investors invested enough to not run at the first dip in earnings. That’s not the same thing as writing a book.