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I see that she’s typing, the three dots moving on the screen. I should probably be doing something better with my time, but she’s so quick to respond that it feels pointless. I’d rather be sitting here with Freddy in my lap, watching those dots than watching another show I’ve seen about a million times. That’s all I do aside from work and family these days.
Getting divorced? Easy. Adjusting to being alone all the time, even though it’s the peace you’ve been begging for? Not that simple.
The dots stop, and I take a moment to catch up with the change of my phone screen. Her name, big and bold.
She’scallingme.
I hesitate, and let my phone buzz in my hand a couple times. I’ve never been a fan of phone calls, I don’t even call my mother. I never called my ex-wife.
I don’t know what possesses me to answer this phone call now, but that’s what I do.
“Hello?” It’s a question, because it’s possible this was somehow an accident. A butt-dial. That makes more sense to me.
“How old are you now?”
Well, that sounds intentional.
“Old enough,” I respond with a laugh.
“No, really,” she says. I can hear a smile in her voice.
“Really.”
“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” I realize she’s slurring a little with that sentence, and hold back a laugh. I almost forgot she’s at some party. That makes her random call even more amusing.
“That would be a fair trade if I didn’t already know.”
She scoffs. “Wait, what? How?”
“You're the same age as my brother, remember?”
The line goes silent for a moment, and I immediately regret mentioning him at all. It’s no secret that he still exists and he’s still my brother, but I wouldn’t want the reminder if I were her either.
Before I can say something, anything, to fill the quiet, she yells. “Oh yeah!” There’s laughter in her voice, thankfully. “Duh!”
It makes me smile. Her laughter used to be a very rare thing to hear.
“You sound like you’re having fun.”
A voice shouts something in the background, but I can’t make out what they say.
“Wait for me!” Autumn yells back at them before bringing her attention back to her phone. “I have to go, so just hurry up and tell me how old you are.”
“Thirty,” I blurt out before I can think better of it.
“Huh. I didn’t realize how many years ahead of me you were. How does it feel?”
“To be five years ahead of you?”
“To be thirty,” she says with another laugh.
“Like everyone expects me to have my shit together more than I do.” It’s another thing I say without thinking, and feels like a good way to bring a mood down.
She hums as if she’s thinking about my answer.
“I could see that,” she mumbles. “What are you doing with the rest of your night?”
Great subject change.
