Day 9 of 21
Allie’s diary (via CloudLink Drive // The Lake Dock *new*)
It’s fascinating how fast something becomes routine.
Birds can be like this, but humans can be extra skilled at it.
We settle in, quickly adopt something new until it feels like something familiar.
Like hotel rooms that feel like home after just one sleep.
It’s the same on the field, when my home is suddenly a musty dorm in a research station, or an Airbnb with mismatched mugs.
A subconscious search for safety, perhaps.
A longing to make things feel familiar, and undangerous.
That’s sort of how things are with Milo and me, and this whole strange phone arrangement. It’s fast becoming familiar. Something that is just simply part of my day.
I wake up. Make a giant mug of tea before Sian drags me into the surrealist art installation that is the June House B motorsport and cooking.
Multiple habit trackers keep reproaching him for not logging data for weeks, which tells me he’s likely flaky, but has high expectations for himself.
(His ex called him ‘work-obsessed’ too, which tracks.
Not that I believe things I read on trashy websites.) A shopping app keeps alerting him to air drying clay and crochet yarn.
He also loves coffee. A lot. He has a brew timer app (who knew such a thing existed?), coffee recipes and numerous take-out apps prompting him to order his drinks ahead.
And I’m actually about to redeem his favourite drink.
There’s a Bunty’s opposite campus, so I thought I’d catch up on some emails in there, before I go into work.
With Milo Ford’s drink. Redeemed on Milo Ford’s (with permission) but contained in my own reusable cup, and all while Clive sets me up with a spare phone back at June House – he fished an old iPhone out of the footwell of his van, and promised more than once, concerningly, that it would be ‘wiped clean. Fully, Allie. Trust me.’ (Sian flapped, of course, reminding me guests should receive a service, not the other way around, but I ignored her.)
It’s weird, though. This feather-blending of mine and Milo’s lives. Me and a perfect stranger.
And it’s nice too, that it’s working.
Milo’s even sending me updates from my nesting cameras. Plus, today he sent an ‘on this day’ memory photo of me and Mum, both holding the (hilariously bad) rum swizzle cake she’d made me to celebrate landing the Bermuda funding, three years back.
I thanked Milo for sending it. ‘A sign?’ he texted with a praying hands emoji, and it made me smile.
OMG.
The barista just called me for my coffee.
‘Milo?’ she called, and I had to say, loud and clear, ‘Yes, that’s me.’
*
11:03 A.M.
Allie via Milo’s phone: [ image description: Allie drinking coffee in Bunty’s – mousy hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing yellow shirt dress, small seashell charm necklace around her neck. She holds a purple reusable coffee cup ]
Allie: Double shot, no milk, but two pumps of candyfloss syrup, one pump of mint, AND whipped cream . . . Excuse me?
Milo via Allie’s phone: Oh man, I warned you!!!
Allie: I think I like it.
Milo: Holy shit, seriously???? ??
Allie: Yes.
Allie: Yet it makes no sense. It’s too bitter but really sweet. Like Santa Claus with a machine gun or something.
Milo: Hahahaha. Seriously!? I’ve never met anyone who likes it!
Allie: May change my mind a few more sips in, but so far, I’m enjoying.
Milo: Hahaha, keep me posted. Also, you’ve had a voicemail from ‘Terrarium’. You don’t seem to have visual voicemail, with a play button and stuff? Should I call later and play it to you?
Allie: If you’re not too busy?
Milo: Nah, free at night until night shoots start!! I can call at like, 9 Romanian time? (7 your time, I think?)
Allie: Thanks.
Milo: First spy debrief scheduled!
Allie: Ha. Yes. Will add your drink to the agenda.
Milo: Your drink too now, Allie. ??