Chapter 6 #3
While I wait for a reply, I call the hospital and confirm my appointment, then I pull my bank card from my wallet and dial the number on the back.
The silver lining to Sara’s revelation about my new job is the fact that I have a job.
Which means I probably have at least a little bit of money to pay bills.
All I need to do is talk to someone who can pull up my account and tell me how much.
Maybe they could even see who issued my paychecks so I know who to call to explain my unexpected absence.
Unfortunately, after ten minutes, I’m ready to cry all over again. Regardless of what I say or the numbers I type when instructed, the automated voice on the other line refuses to connect me with a live person.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that,” the stilted voice says for what feels like the fiftieth time. “If you’d like to speak with an agent, say ‘agent.’ ”
“AGENT,” I say again, this time through gritted teeth.
“Got it. You want to hear the branch hours for our location in Somerville. We’re open from nine—”
I hang up before I throw my phone out the window. Then I stand up, empty mug in hand, and head for the kitchen. I need more tea.
Ben’s directions are still on the countertop where I left them when I got home. I barely notice until I stop at the sink to fill the kettle and my eyes snag on his phone number scrawled in the corner.
His handwriting sends an odd thrum down my spine. While I wait for the water to boil, I type his number into my contacts, and open a new text message.
MARNIE
thanks for your help today!
got home safe obv
I’m about to put the phone down, but then pause and start typing again.
MARNIE
this is Marnie Stephens, btw
from across the hall
I leave the phone face down on the counter when the kettle begins to whistle, and pour hot water into my waiting mug.
Just as I’m about to reach for another bag of chamomile, a loud, tinny ding echoes through the apartment.
I jump, only to almost immediately realize that, no, it’s not some insane fire alarm.
It’s the sound of a text message coming in on my burner phone.
I pick it up and flip it open.
BEN MORGAN
No problem.
He’s attached the contact information for Gino, the building’s super. I smile and type out my response.
MARNIE
thank you for remembering!
BEN MORGAN
You’re welcome. Knock if you need anything else.
Ben Morgan texts with the perfect punctuation of a serial killer. Thank God I didn’t know that before our walk to the store earlier or I definitely would have convinced myself I was going to die.
MARNIE
i promise not to abuse the privilege
I finish making my tea, then open the contact information for Gino and press call. It rings three times before it connects, but there’s only silence on the other end.
“Hello?” I say after a moment.
I hear a reedy voice on the other end: “Hello?”
“Is this Gino?”
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Gino?” I repeat a bit more loudly.
“Hello? This is Gino.”
“Hi, Gino. I’m Marnie Stephens. I live in apartment 3A.”
“Okay.”
“Sorry to bother you, but I think I saw a mouse in my kitchen today.”
“Okay.”
I wait, hoping he’ll connect the dots on his own. When he doesn’t, I ask, “Is that something you can take care of?”
“Okay.”
It takes another ten minutes before we finally agree on a time for him to stop by on Wednesday morning.
At least, I think we’ve agreed. I’m trying to confirm one last time when my phone dings with another text message.
I glance down at my screen long enough to see that it’s from Matt, and my heart dips down into my stomach.
“That’s great, Gino,” I say, not exactly sure what he’s talking about now, only that I need to get off the phone to reply to the text. “I’ll see you Wednesday at nine.”
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay.”
I wait, wondering if there’s a more substantial goodbye coming, but then the line cuts out.
If that was Gino’s version of goodbye or my new phone simply dropping the call, I have no idea. I also don’t think it will accomplish much to call him back and find out. Instead, I open my messages.
MATT
Thanks for your number
I got back today, actually
Could grab coffee this week if you’re around
MARNIE
sounds great!
i have a doctor’s appt at the hospital tomorrow—maybe we could meet up before?
MATT
Sounds good
There’s a coffee shop right there on the corner of Cambridge St & Blossom—meet you there?
MARNIE
perfect! should we say 10-ish?
Matt sends back a thumbs-up emoji.
I stare down at the screen, waiting for more. Matt always treated text conversations like he would in-person ones, which usually meant adding a goodbye at the end. But after another moment, I realize there’s no goodbye coming. This is it.
And that’s fine. A limited response makes sense in the context of whatever happened between the two of us. I just wish I knew exactly what that was.
It’s not our purpose to understand the universe’s plan, my grandmother’s voice echoes in my head. Just trust its magic and enjoy the ride.
That sounded so wise when I was eleven. So whimsical. I only wish it still did at thirty.
I mean thirty-one.
Damn it.