7. Chapter 7
The introduction of texting made relationships infinitely more complicated.
Not that I was in one, but it was a fact.
I’d written and read a few Popbyte articles about it.
The written word was a thing left open to interpretation throughout time.
Death of the author or something. That was the reason I kept staring at my phone.
I was trying to will a text message from Summoner to my phone through pure mental strength. It didn’t work. There was so much I didn’t know.
Does he like gifs, funny jokes, or anecdotes?
Do I ask about his day?
Did 65-year-olds even text?
Too many questions I had no earthly clue of the answers to. So, I just flipped out at every vibration real and imagined from my pocket.
***
I sighed from my place on the floor, sitting on a flattened pillow between Shay’s legs.
I was at her apartment for Hair Day Sunday, where she gave me a deep condition and fresh twists.
In exchange, I tightened her locs. We also had to do some guided meditation, which I could take or leave.
New age peace aside, it reminded me of growing up when older neighborhood ladies would help dad with my hair.
Sometimes, when Shay had her fingers on my scalp, I’d close my eyes and imagine I had a mom to do these things with when I was growing up. Only sometimes.
“What’s the deal, Poppy?”
“Huh?” I tilted my head back to look up at her.
“Don’t ‘huh’ me.” She nudged the side of my head with her comb. “You’ve been a space case all day. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Again, she poked my head with the comb.
“Okay! Okay! Stop!” I groaned. “I’m kinda overthinking about texting with someone.”
“Ooooo! You met someone?”
I shook my head. “Not really. I mean, it’s not like that. I, uh, I just don’t know how to reach out to them. Things are super low key, and I don’t want to mess things up.”
Shay leaned forward and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “Poppy, you always overthink things.”
“I know, that’s like my whole MO.”
“But you shouldn’t. You have such a warm and inviting energy around you. You attract goodness.”
I held in a snort. Shay had no idea how wrong she was, but I wasn’t going to argue with her. She had chakras on her side.
“Just text them. What’s the worst that can happen?” She kissed my cheek before sitting up and returning the comb to my hair.
Maybe she’s right?
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and sent a quick message before I could talk myself out of it.
Poppy: Hi! How have you been?
“I messaged him.”
“Awesome! Now let all your hope float away on the SMS network and hold your head up so I can make this next part.”
I didn’t have an unreasonable timeline for response. He was a Boomer, after all. But there was nothing from him. Like a plane taking off to nosedive into the earth. I went from feeling pretty good about it to shitty.
I shouldn’t have added the damn exclamation point.
There still wasn’t a reply by the time we finished meditating and I’d walked home. Frustrated on the couch, I stared at the Summoner tour poster near my TV. As if the universe was aware, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A wave of relief swept over me, making me squeak.
Summoner OMG: Sorry about that. I was listening to music a feeling I’d breathed life into. An amusement. I was the same age as his children. I was a child to him. Nothing more.
I gnawed on my lower lip. The dull zaps of pain gave me clarity when a hazy sheet of lust threatened to make a fool of me. Crushes were fine and totally normal in other circumstances. Not this. I couldn’t like Summoner in that way. Groaning, I collapsed face-first into the couch cushions.
I liked him. I always did, but there could never be anything more than admiration.
This wasn’t his music, an interview, or some recording of a concert.
His presence ignited warm, fuzzy things I knew I shouldn’t feel.
My feelings were loud and wrong as hell.
At the core of everything, the age difference between us was massive.
I was a kid to him. An annoying pain in the ass.
You always like the out of reach ones, don’t ya?!
***
Like countless Mondays before, Jordan waited for me by the elevators, muffin in hand. He had already taken several bites out of it.
“Today is cranberry blast.” He grinned.
“Why blast?” I eyed the baked goods suspiciously.
He shrugged. I bit into the muffin and my eyebrows shot up.
“The blast is orange!” I exclaimed mid-bite. That Jordan’s “expensive” and “well-traveled” palette didn’t pick up on that made me side eye his bland ass.
As we rode up in the elevator, he ranted about some source he couldn’t track down for a quote.
That his taste buds couldn’t identify the fucking orange zest made me wish he’d never track down another quote in his life.
Of course, I kept that thought to myself.
I sat at a desk and waved him on as he went to his office. I took another bite of my muffin.
Another Monday. Back on the horse.
I spent the next several days doing the usual goofing off, wasting time on social media, and writing such award-winning articles like “Life Lessons from Dr. Pimple Popper,” “10 Songs That Always Get White Folks Doing Carpool Karaoke” and I totally didn’t think about Summoner at all.
Okay, maybe I did a little…
But only when I had to skip his albums on my playlists.
Not at several other moments in between when I had idle time at work or when I walked home.
And if I thought of him, I quickly changed gears and started thinking about everything else.
No lingering over here. I learned that the backsplash in my kitchen had 132 and a half tiles.
A fact I thought was interesting, but the group chat didn’t appreciate it.
Wednesday afternoon, my phone buzzed from its spot beside my laptop.
Summoner OMG: Tea?
Like a dying cat toy, I squealed. Loudly.
Self-consciously, I looked around, but my coworkers were too busy drowning in their content creation bullshit to notice me.
I often imagined one of us collapsing at our desk and hitting the floor with a thud.
A painful, agony-filled last moment where the clacking of fingers on keys doesn’t stop.
No one would notice, and no one would care.
I shook that dark thought out of my head as I typed out my response.
Poppy: Do u drink anything else?
Summoner OMG: Yes, but that doesn’t answer my question. Tea?
Poppy: I have a job. U know that right?
Summoner OMG: Yes. Sorry. Tea?
Poppy: Of course.
I put the finishing touches on “6 Sesame Street Moments When Elmo’s Bad Bitch Came Out” and sent it off, along with several others, to my editor. The obligation for my paycheck met, I dashed for the elevator.
Walking past Brew Box, I reflected on the strange change in my circumstances. I had exchanged a warm cup of caffeine and a cozy writing environment for hanging out in a penthouse with a rock star. Then, an idea struck me, and I pulled out my phone.
Poppy: Meet me outside in 10 mins
I rounded the corner in front of Summoner’s building and my eyebrows jumped up.
Despite my text, I didn’t expect him to actually be waiting for me.
At the bottom of the stairs, hands in his pockets.
His breath rose in harsh puffs overhead.
I caught his attention with a wave. His face lit up at the sight of my awkward self approaching.
“Hey.” I smiled.
“Hey.” He pulled down the brim of his cap.
I led the way down the street with him quickly falling into step beside me.
“… So, where are we headed?” He asked.
“You asked if I wanted tea, so we’re going to get tea and coffee.”
He snorted. “I could make us tea in the house.”
I shook my head. “Nope. I’ve stunted you.”
“Stunted?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’ve stunted you. You hang out with me at your place all the time and you’re not going out and doing your therapy. So that’s what we’re going to do, therapy!”
“You needn’t do my therapy with me, Poppy.” He pressed the crosswalk button as we stopped at the curb.
“We’re friends, right?”
He nodded.
“So, I know I don’t have to do anything, but I want to help.
You’ve always been so nice to me, and you’ve never even known it.
Like when Larry Hugo didn’t ask me to prom.
I locked myself in my room and listened to Idly in The Sun on repeat for weeks.
” My awkward confession floated into the frosty New York air, and I shifted in my coat.
My mouth’s tendency to run away and fill space in conversation was going to be the death of me.
After a painfully long moment, the light changed, and we crossed the street.
My jaw clenched, and I wished for a car to grow impatient and mow me down.
As we stepped onto the sidewalk, I glanced at Summoner’s tiny smile.
I stored that sneak peek away for a faraway rainy day, one where he wasn’t in my life anymore.
The very thought of not spending time with him turned my stomach.
“How often will we be doing this therapy?” he asked.