Page 16 of More, Daddy

Her phone rang?

The popcorn burned?

The dog threw up?

I don’t even know if she has a dog. Or if she likes popcorn. Or owns a landline. But still, there’s a battery of logical, non-anxiety inducing reasons for her to have gotten offline suddenly.

Though in the two months we’ve talked, she’s never left our chat without saying goodbye. Not once.

What if someone broke in and snuck up behind her and she’s being held captive in her home while they rob and rape her and I’m the only one that knows something is amiss? I stare at my naked reflection in the bathroom mirror as the sink runs, my toothbrush loaded with minty paste hanging from my hand.

West. You are borrowing worry. And even if someone did break in, you don’t know where she lives. You could not help her even if you wanted to. You have no reason to worry.

And yet, I brush my teeth with worry. I spit worry into thesink. I drink worry from my to-go mug on the drive to Worry High. I sit at my desk, made of worry, and type worry-filled emails on my computer.

All day I worry.

But at the end of the day, I retrace my steps to that email I received last night. I revisit Mary Grace’s profile, because spending an entire day with irritable bowel syndrome due to a woman whose name I don’t even know is not healthy.

I recognize this.

I accept the match, and receive an email from Mary Grace, asking me to dinner the same night. A date. With Mary Grace, who I learn from her message back to me, lives in Oakcreek, right near Bluebell.

I don’t want to go out with Mary Grace.

But I recognize that I am becoming wholly obsessed withDaddysGirl.

Now I have to go on the date. To prove to myself that I’m not getting obsessive and strange over… a stranger.

After a few emailswith Mary Grace, we’ve decided to meet tonight at King Dum in Oakcreek, the dumpling place that everyone loves. I’m fine making a thirty-five minute drive, and in fact, it may just be the time I need to focus on getting to know Mary Grace, and get my date questions ready.

The remainder of my work day is two district meetings, one where I am there to argue for increased funding for field house repairs, and the second where I am advocating for new safety railings on our bleachers and yes, apparently that is something that has to be advocated for. Still, the day is busyenough to allow me to take my mind offDaddysGirl, and her unusual log off last night.

By the time I’m home, there’s just enough time for a quick shower and a beer to squelch my pre-date nerves before I have to leave for Oakcreek. With my clothes already picked out, I’m down to only a handful of spare minutes if I get in the shower right this second.

Why I go to my room, sit on the edge of my bed, and open my laptop, however, is beyond me. Maybe I’m more addicted toDaddysGirlthan I allowed myself to believe, but if I could just talk to her for a minute or two, make sure things between us are fine—then I could enjoy this date.

My heart feels like it’s absolutely to the brim with blood, weighty and full behind my ribs, thumping heavily as I wait to see if she’s online.

Veiledboots up, showing me I have no new messages. My eyes hover over the buddy menu when—green appears—DaddysGirl is online.

The back of my neck pricks with heated nerves, nerves that spread down my spine, through my limbs, and have my fingers skittering over the keyboard before I can stop myself.

Suede0989

Are you okay?

That sudden logoff last night had me worried about you

And then, because I’m an absolute fool:

Suede0989

I don’t like not knowing if you’re okay

Her fingers dance over her keyboard, evident by the moving dots, teasing a message that never arrives. I haul myself up, nerves jangling, and crank the shower to life, thehiss of water drowning out my racing thoughts. When I step back and glance at my laptop once more, she’s at it again, those three dots teasing me. My stomach lurches into a tight knot of anticipation.

I stare at the screen another minute, but still, she hasn’t hit send or finished typing.