Chapter 8
eight
After Ty leaves, I turn off my rig, switch over to Jim Beam, and wallow on my beanbag. The booze makes the uncomfortable prickle spread to my stomach. Finally, when I can’t stand it anymore, I pick up my main phone and text Emily.
I must catch her just before bed, which I know is midnight without exception. She texts me back almost instantly with a number and a message.
Emily: Cynnie said she hopes you call her tonight.
I will, I promise.
But it takes me several more minutes to work up the courage to press the number. It’s only when I see the minutes ticking toward midnight and realize Cynnie might have a bedtime, too, that I finally thumb the number.
She answers on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hi, Cynnie. It’s Max.”
Am I slurring? I don’t think I’m slurring. I hope I’m not slurring. Damn, I should have just stuck to those beers.
“Hi, Max,” she says, with the tiniest lisp on my name. “I’m glad you called.”
“It’s not too late, is it?”
“No, it’s fine. It was so nice to meet you today.”
“Yeah, it was great to meet you, too.” The alcohol takes my tongue and I blather, “I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.
I would like to have dinner with you. If the offer’s still open.
Or anything else you’d like to do. Doesn’t have to be dinner.
Or you could have dinner here. Would that be better?
If I cooked dinner for you? Or would you rather go out? ”
“Um—”
There’s an awkward gap and I stumble over my tongue to fill it. “Or we could see a movie? Do you like movies?”
“I like movies, but I’d love to have dinner at your place.”
That finally slows the terrible tumbling of words. “Yeah? How about tomorrow? Are you free tomorrow? Or is that too soon? Is Tuesday better?”
Maybe the terrible tumbling hasn’t completely stopped. At her sweet giggle, it finally does.
“Tomorrow’s great.”
“Great, that’s great.”
“Could you text me your address?”
“Yeah, I’ll do that right now.” I flip my phone over to messages and type her out my address. “It’s on East Tenth. Are you far away? I mean, you don’t have to tell me where you live. I’m not trying to be invasive—”
“It’s not invasive,” Cynnie says. “I live in Yorkville.”
“You had a way to come to the playgroup,” I observe. “You didn’t come by yourself on the subway, did you?”
“No, I took an Uber. It’s not safe for me on the subway when I’m in littlespace and going to playgroup always makes me feel little.”
The concern that gripped me at the idea of her on the subway, even on a Sunday afternoon, eases. “Good. That’s good.”
“Max? I have to go to bed soon, but is there any chance you would read me a story? I can send you a link to my bedtime book.”
I settle back into my beanbag, relaxing rather than wallowing now. “Absolutely, girlie-girl. What am I reading you?”
“It’s called the Very Hairy Bumblebee. It’s my favorite.”
My phone pings with the link and I tap over to it.
She’s loaned me the book and I quickly download the reading app, since I don’t read books on my phone.
When I open the book, I discover it’s an illustrated kid’s book about the misadventures of a bumblebee that looks like an exploding dust bunny, only with yellow and black stripes.
As I read the book to her, I can hear her little yawns in the background. They trigger mine, and by the time the very hairy bumblebee makes it back to his hive, covered in pollen and looking like an exploding orange dust bunny, I’m ready to call it a night.
I close the reading app. “Are you ready for bed, Cynnie?”
“I hazn’t brushed my teeth,” she says.
“Go brush your teeth and use the potty so you don’t have to get up in the night and then take the phone with you to bed and I’ll say goodnight.”
She giggles. “Okay.”
She takes the phone into the bathroom, because I hear the water running, but that’s fine because I do, too, after racing through my apartment to turn off the lights. I mute my phone while I use the toilet and beat her to bed by only a few seconds.
“Max, are you still there?”
I curse and fumble to unmute my phone. “Yes, I’m here. Are you in bed?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you have cute jammies to wear to bed?”
I sleep naked but I like the idea of her in cute jammies.
“Mmm, I’z my onesie.”
Heat shoots to my groin at the mental image of Cynnie in a onesie like the one Emily wore the other night.
“Do you have your bee to snuggle with?” I wrack my brain for the name of her stuffie. “Buzzybee, right?”
“You ‘membered. I haz Buzzy and my caterpillar.”
“Are you all tucked in tight?”
“Uh-huh. Youz?”
“Me?”
“Youz tucked in tight?”
She sounds so sweetly sleepy.
I pull the sheet and weighted blanket I sleep under up onto my chest so I’m being truthful with her when I answer, “I’m tucked in tight. Do you have a time you have to be up in the morning?”
“Nuh-uh. Monday’s my sleep-in day.”
“Good. No alarm then. Just close your eyes and think of a nice, peaceful place. Where’s your favorite peaceful place?”
“Beach,” she murmurs.
“I like the beach, too. Picture your favorite beach. It’s not too bright or hot. Just warm and peaceful with the waves lapping on the sand.”
“Sounds nice,” she whispers.
“Shh. Just listen to my voice.” I cast my mind back to the relaxation exercises the therapist the Navy made me see taught me.
“You lie back on the sand. It feels soft and warm under you. You close your eyes and listen to the waves and the calls of seabirds in the distance. You stretch, starting with your toes. Can you point your toes and stretch for me?”
I flex my feet under the covers, pointing my toes and feeling tension in my ankles unlock.
“Yeth.” Such a tiny, sweet voice.
“Now your legs. Feel the stretch in your thighs, your calves, keep your toes pointed. Are you doing that?”
“Yeth.”
“Now up through your hips, your tummy, stretch your ribs, your shoulders, arch your back.” I do and hear my whole back crack. Ah. “Arms up over your head and stretch, stretch, stretch. Hold it. Now relax, ahh, every muscle limp as a noodle.”
A small giggle.
“Keep your eyes closed and just listen to the waves and the birds while letting yourself sink deeper and deeper into the soft sand. The sun feels warm on your skin. You’re completely relaxed.
So relaxed you could float away over the waves into your dreams. Turn off your phone now and go to sleep, sweetie. ”
“Night-night, Max.”
“Night-night.” It slips out, just like the “good girl” this afternoon. I can’t stop it. “Baby girl.”
I turn off my own phone, push it over onto the charging pad, and flick off the light.
I sleep like the dead for ten hours and wake to seven missed calls from Lindy.
“Hey, man,” I say when he picks up.
“I found a hole,” he says, without returning one of my rare greetings. “I’m flooding your system with dino porn and malware right now.”
“You dick.” I scramble out of bed, grabbing a pair of shorts, and run downstairs only to find black screens.
Then I realize I shut down my rig completely last night. Something I rarely do, but I did it last night after an update. I tap the power switches to start everything up.
“You didn’t find a hole. I turned my system off last night.”
Lindy huffs into the phone. “I could have, though.”
“Not likely. Is it good dino porn, at least? Like when they’re wearing those blow-up T-Rex costumes, or is it crappy cartoon dino porn?”
Lindy chuckles. “Like I’d give you the good stuff.”
I yawn and stretch before walking into the kitchen to start the coffeemaker. “Did you actually find any weak spots?”
“A couple. I’ve sent you a report of where I think you need some overlapping firewalls. Oh, and spend less time gaming, you slacker. Fuck, your game time is extreme.”
“I’m running a campaign right now,” I say defensively. “And it’s not just me. My neighbor plays on my system a lot.”
“Yeah, I found him. BoyFalcon9722, right? His game time is a third of what yours is. I’m going to have to assign you more homework.”
I chuckle and scratch my belly. “Eat shit.”
“And NotJeff64? What kind of handle is that?”
One I don’t mind people finding. “I’m changing it this afternoon to NotLindy.”
“Your grade just dropped to a D. Speaking of which, I really like the server design you’ve got going. Do a presentation on it in class and I’ll give you extra credit.”
“I have the highest score in the class. I don’t need extra credit,” I protest.
“Do the presentation and I’ll buy the drinks next time.”
“And dinner,” I say, taking a clean bowl and spoon out of the dishwasher and pouring myself a bowl of cereal.
“You cheap bastard,” Lindy huffs. “Fine, dinner.”
“Deal. When am I up?”
“Next class.”
“Hey, I have things to do between now and then.”
“Tough. If I’m buying dinner, too, you’re presenting next class. Call me if you have any questions about what I sent you.”
“Will do. Thanks, man.”
“You’re welcome. See you Thursday. And make sure to send me your slides in advance. You wouldn’t believe what a ball-ache loading them up onto the school intranet is.”
I rub my forehead. Slides? Fuck. “Fine,” I grumble.
“Bye.” Lindy hangs up without waiting for me to say it, since I’ve given him the abbreviated version of why I don’t.
While I’m eating my cereal, I text Ty and Logan, then read over the report Lindy’s sent me. I spend a happy two hours putting up new firewalls and only realize I’ve lost track of time when my phone buzzes.
Logan: Are you coming or what?
Shit.
Sorry, lost track of time. On my way.
I do one last test of my new firewall and leave it running while I change into a T-shirt and shorts, do a quick wash, and brush my teeth. On my way out the door, I check the fridge to see what I have in for dinner and type a quick list of things I need into my phone. Oat milk tops the list.
Logan looks worse but clearly feels better when I arrive at his townhouse. I give him a hug because I’m still getting past that hideous clutch of fear at the idea of losing him, then give Emmy a hug, just because she’s Emmy, before I throw myself on her mercy.