Chapter 7 Late-night Texts
Late-night Texts
“Help,” I whisper. “Someone help me.”
I think the all-encompassing fear that has started taking over me is a sign of death getting closer.
It could happen any night now. I take in a small breath of air, but I can’t seem to expand my lungs against the heavy weight pressing down on my chest. In a burst of panic, I shake my head and jump out of bed.
I pace in circles around my room. Frantically, I scratch at the hives appearing rapidly on my arms, face, and chest. What is happening to me?
Pacing around the room, I notice that I can breathe after all, albeit difficult, labored breathing.
Part of me wants to knock on Mom and Carole’s door and tell them what is happening or call an ambulance.
Instead, I wait it out. I still can’t fully expand my chest cavity, but I’m breathing.
I need to know that I’m okay. I sit on the edge of my bed and send a text to Mags.
Hey! Any chance you’re awake?
I wait a few minutes, but I don’t hear anything back.
Duh! Of course, she’s asleep. I would have to call to wake her up which would, in turn, wake her parents and spark questions.
I consider texting Neel but figure it will be the same situation.
But I need to talk to someone. That’s when I remember Hector.
I scroll through my contacts to find his number.
It feels weird, wrong even, to text him.
I don’t know him, but there isn’t anyone else, and he did give me his number.
With a shaking hand, I type the following text.
Hi, it’s Simon from Starbucks this morning. Any chance you’re awake?
I don’t immediately hit send. Texting a stranger isn’t the smartest idea.
It could open a Pandora’s box. But I remember how kind Hector was to me this morning when I needed help.
Hector seems like the type of person who helps people.
He could help me again. Or, he could say, I already helped you once today. Buzz off, asshole.
The fascinating thing that happens while I consider these scenarios is that my breathing returns to normal.
Whatever took over me seems to be gone now.
Weird. Only the itchy hives remain. I decide not to question what happened or why it happened and be grateful it is over.
But I still need to deal with this text.
I should erase it and go back to bed, but for some reason my finger hits send. There is no going back now.
Oh, no! What have I done? This whole day has been a train wreck of poor decisions. One after another, and I don’t even understand why I am making them. I hold my breath until I see the three dots appear on the screen. OMG! He’s writing back!
Hi Simon! What’s up? How are you feeling?
Wow! He is writing back. I can’t believe it. My palms are sweaty, but I immediately respond.
Sorry to bother you, I didn’t know who else to contact.
You OK? Tell me what’s up. It’s no bother.
Feeling like a sad charity case, I’m immediately embarrassed for reaching out.
What the hell did I think I was doing? Texting some random stranger late at night!
Are you there, Hector? It’s me, Simon, and I can’t breathe.
We aren’t friends. I don’t know him, and he doesn’t know me!
I decide not to tell him about being unable to breathe.
I’m good. I didn’t mean that part about not knowing who to contact. Just wanted to thank you again for the drink this morning. Are you sure I can’t pay you for it?
I told you, Simon, it’s not a problem. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about anything? Are you going to school tomorrow?
Okay, now this is something concrete I can answer.
Yes! Back to school tomorrow. Getting my shit together. I got caught LOL.
I tell him about dinner at Mags’ and how I put my foot in my mouth and absentmindedly gave it away to Mom that I skipped school.
He sends a laughing face emoji. I’m enjoying texting back and forth with him.
It doesn’t seem weird at all. It’s easy, like two old friends having a conversation. But his next text makes me choke.
I’m sitting here eating popcorn and watching TV with my boyfriend Jamal.
My chest tightens as I stare at the screen. Boyfriend? OMG! Hector is gay! Is everyone around me gay? In a panic, I turn off my phone before he asks any questions I’m not ready to answer. I crawl back under the covers. Maybe Mom is right, and I should look for a girlfriend. I’m asleep in minutes.