Chapter 21 Infected #2
Jordyn’s already on the couch with a mug of English breakfast tea when Micah lets me into the apartment. This was a little tradition when we all lived together. We’d sit down before heading off to do our separate night things and catch up on our days over tea.
I miss it.
Jordyn waggles her brows. “What’d he say?”
I suck a breath through my teeth. “I think I need to start with the other thing I wanted to get your thoughts on before I lose my nerve.”
Micah hands me a mug on his way to the couch. “Go for it, Rick, what’s up?”
I take it and settle in next to Jordyn. “Thank you.” Micah plops down at the other end of the sectional.
“What is it, Rick? You’re making me nervous,” Jordyn demands.
I press the mug against my chin. “Okay . . .”
Jordyn motions with her hands for me to continue.
“Um . . . here goes.” I clear my throat. “I think I’m being haunted.”
Micah sets his mug on their glass coffee table. “Haunted?”
Jordyn squints at me. “Is this metaphorical?”
I sigh. “No, bear with me.”
“We’re bearing,” Micah says calmly.
I take a small sip of tea and clear my throat. “You know those nice old-timey leather journals Babe had in the goody bags from her wedding?”
“No, I didn’t get a journal,” Jordyn says.
Micah shakes his head. “I didn’t get one either.”
My brow furrows. “I don’t know, Reed also didn’t get one.
Maybe like every tenth person got one—they’re nice.
It has my name carved into the leather on the back.
Anyway, the night of the wedding when I got up to the apartment after trading suitcases with Reed, that journal was in the suitcase when I opened it, even though I hadn’t moved it from the goody bag. ”
“The same one with your name on it?” Micah asks.
“Yes.”
Micah tilts his head. Jordyn narrows her eyes.
“Then, when I flew out to see Whitney, I’m like, 80 percent sure now that I didn’t pack it, but it was there in my carry-on when I opened it at the airport.
And then when I got home, before I had unpacked that same carry-on, it was out sitting on my nightstand.
At the time I tried to write it off, like, I’m tired, and I’m seeing things.
“But, I’ve been putting it away in the top drawer of my nightstand every night.
And I keep coming home from work to find it on top of my nightstand.
And for a short while I told myself maybe my dad was coming in and taking it out, to read it, because he does show up randomly for renovation stuff now.
But that doesn’t make any sense because it’s happening consistently, and I’ve never written in it.
Like, there’s no way he’d be coming into my apartment every day just to move a notebook onto the nightstand. ”
They blink at me in silence for a good long fifteen seconds.
“You got back from seeing Whitney like, three weeks ago,” Jordyn says.
“Yeah.”
Jordyn sucks a tooth and repositions herself. “I’m sorry. So you’re saying the journal is moving itself from the drawer to the nightstand every day of your life?”
I drop my chin in the barest nod. “It’s happening when I’m at work.
And I’ve been moving it around to different hiding spots this week, just in case I was like, night moving it in my sleep—which doesn’t make sense since it’s moving after I leave the apartment.
It always manages to end up back on my nightstand by evening. ”
Jordyn gapes. “Why in the hell haven’t you mentioned this? Three weeks, Rikki? It could have murdered you in your sleep by now!”
“Because this is legit batshit! I didn’t think anyone would believe me!”
“Why wouldn’t we believe you? We’re your best friends!” Jordyn cries.
“Because I barely believe me!”
Jordyn slams her mug down on the coffee table. “Woman, if you told me you turned into a turtle every night, I would believe you. I love you.”
I snort.
Micah sighs. “To clarify, you still haven’t opened the journal or written in it?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Jordyn exclaims.
“Because I’m, like. . . scared of it now. It feels like a demon’s living in it or something.”
Jordyn picks her tea back up. “Jeezus Christ, Rikki.”
“Have you touched it since last night when you put it away?” Micah asks.
“No.”
“And you put it back in the drawer last night?”
“Yes—I can’t sleep with it there next to my face.”
Micah stands up and rolls his neck. “All right, both of you get up, let’s go get a look at this thing.”
“So wait, you haven’t spoken to Reed this entire time?” Micah asks as I lead them down the hallway. “Have you been talking to other guys?”
“No.”
“Don’t you have a friendship with benefits pact? If you’re not getting any physical benefits and you ghosted, what is the point of the pact? You’re not friends, and there are no benefits.”
“I didn’t ghost him! We have a rule to avoid ghosting! There’s no texting allowed unless we’re in the same state.” I stick my key into the door.
“Yeah, but he texted a heart, and you didn’t even drop a heart on the text. If that were me, I would have died,” Jordyn says. “If that were you, you would have died.”
“I wouldn’t have dropped a heart after a second date! It’s sus!”
“Or he’s just expressing that he likes you, and you’re pushing him away five seconds into knowing him.”
“I didn’t do any pushing. I just let it be!” I catch Jordyn and Micah exchanging a look over my shoulder. “What?” I demand.
“Nothing,” Jordyn says as I push my apartment door open.
“The no-texting thing was the smartest way to move through a two-months-of-not-seeing-each-other gap without someone feeling hurt!” I spout, despite my extremely hypocritical secret feelings on the matter.
I move aside so Jordyn and Micah can walk past me into the living room.
“You always assume the worst when it comes to the guys you’re dating,” Jordyn mutters. “You never give them the benefit of the doubt. You give them the absolute doubt.”
I glance at Micah, who’s hovering near my coffee table. “You do tend to jump pretty quickly to the doubt.”
I push the door shut and lock it. “I’ve met too many assholes to always give the benefit of the doubt.”
“But you treat everyone you date as if automatically they’re going to be an asshole. You don’t give people the space to be good. And if you don’t give them the space, how will you ever know?” Jordyn lectures.
I squint at her. “Is this a roundabout way of telling me I’m an asshole?”
“No,” Micah says at the same time as Jordyn says, “Only sometimes.”
I cross my arms, leaning against the door. “He sent a new chapter in the email.”
Jordyn holds out her hand. I tap open the Google doc and hand it to her. She falls on the couch reading.
“Rikki, the notebook?” Micah asks.
I stride to the bedroom and gesture through the doorway toward my nightstand. It’s sitting there. As predicted.
Jordyn looks up from the couch. “Wait, Rikki.” She widens her eyes at me. “This is so good.”
I sigh guiltily. “I know.”
“He says he’s yearning for you! You have to email back.”
“It could just be for the drama of a chapter,” I say quietly. “To get me to think he’s yearning, so he has the upper hand to turn the tables on me if I were to reciprocate.”
“Come on, Rikki.”
I throw a hand up and let it drop to my side. “I’m trying to sort out what to say.”
Micah eyes us wearily. “Are we here to inspect the journal or . . . ?”
“Yes,” Jordyn hops up from the couch. The three of us file into my room. We come to a standstill, gathered around the nightstand like doctors at an operating table.
After a few seconds Jordyn nudges me. “Pick it up, Rick.”
I do as directed and take a seat along the edge of the bed. Jordyn and Micah situate themselves on my left and right respectively.
“Open it,” Jordyn says.
Micah nods. “Might as well do it with us here in case an evil overlord leaps out from the pages.”
“I feel silly.”
“Just do it!” Jordyn demands.
I slide the garter onto my wrist and unsnap the closure. The journal flops open easily. Like it’s been worn in. Micah and Jordyn crane forward to inspect the blank first page.
“Write something,” they say in unison.
We all laugh.
I pull a pen from my nightstand drawer, click it on, and hover over the page.
Hi, I’m Rikki. What’s up?