Chapter 47 Notifications
My phone dings with a picture thirty seconds later. From Reed. Us at the wedding with the bride and groom. The Regent Fallow picture made it to the cloud!
I glance at the sky. “Thank you, genuinely. Thank you for this weekend. I’ll never ever forget it.”
I heart the picture. It feels too soon to say anything. We need to let that goodbye sit for a second. He’s probably not even home yet. He had a thirty-minute drive, and I’m already in New Jersey.
I haven’t touched this new phone yet. Not really. There were a shit ton of notifications once I booted it up because I’ve barely touched technology since Friday night. I have a thousand different messages across a variety of apps to sift through.
I collapse onto the ugly brown couch in my father’s apartment.
That was my fifth jump. I have eight left. Four back-and-forth trips. Maybe Reed could come here a few times so I can stretch those across the rest of the year.
I unlock the new phone.
Before I can pull up Gmail, a new notification dings in.
Dad: Wow you made it back fast, you should have told us you had a flight to catch
Not watching the Ring camera, my ass.
Me: Hope you had a nice rest of your night Dad
Dad: Glad you got to meet Enora, she’s wonderful. I hope you liked her too.
Me: Yeah she seems really sweet
I tap out of the thread with him and open the text I sent myself from Enora’s phone. I save her contact info before shooting her a quick response.
Me: Enora, my father has anger management problems and a history of DV, please be careful.
I have a slew of missed texts from Jordyn.
I told her I was flying out to be a plus-one for Reed this weekend.
I thumb through the messages. They’re all asking for details, updates, if I’m alive, if I’m okay, if I’ve been murdered, where the fuck am I: hello Rikki?
?? Rikki I’m panicked. Answer me Rikki! I tap on her contact info and call her.
She picks up on the second ring. “Rikki!”
“I’m alive!”
“What is wrong with you? Are you incapable of answering a text with five letters over the course of forty-eight hours? If you didn’t get in touch with me by tomorrow morning, I was about to start phoning your entire family and then calling the police.”
“Sorry! I got swept up in the moment and then I dropped my phone in the ocean, and it stopped working, I just had to put five hundred dollars down on a new one.”
“I’m coming over.”
“Don’t you have work tomorrow?” I ask.
“Like that matters right now!”
“Doesn’t pregnancy make you tired? It’s past midnight.”
“Pregnancy makes it possible for me to roll into work a little late. Gimme five minutes—I’m gonna make popcorn.” She hangs up.
I skim through the rest of my texts. Whitney asking for updates. And multiple from my mom.
MOM [12:25 p.m.]: Sweetheart! Layla and I decided we’re moving the wedding date! We think spring will be nicer—switching it to our first-date-aversary Earth Day! Next year!
It’ll be nice for our anniversaries to line up, don’t you think? Can you go through the appointments you’ve made thus far and update them? I’ve already talked to the park people!
I flop forward onto my face across the couch cushions. I’ve already booked flowers, a dog photographer, a regular photographer, a videographer, a caterer, a decorator, four dog trainers, a photo booth, a DJ, and a balloon arch for December 31.
Mom [6:30 p.m.]: What’s this? Dad says you have a boyfriend! And you brought him to his house? When do I get to meet him? Wait till Aunt Teresa hears.
I flip through my Google calendar for Earth Day, April 22nd.
Me: Mom, Earth Day is on a Tuesday next year.
Mom: I know, isn’t it great? The park is way cheaper.
Me: won’t your guests have work?
Mom: it won’t start till 3! They can leave early if they want to come.
There’s a knock at my door. I open it as I’m pulling open my email. I have something from Maya that came in at 5:30 p.m. on Friday. I tap it open as Jordyn, who’s finally starting to look pregnant, throws herself on the couch with her bowl of popcorn.
Oh Rikki. I forgot to shoot this over earlier. After lunch Ted stopped by my office. Said you two had a great talk and pitched an article to cowrite for your column: The 8 cracks that broke my last relationship. Byline being: A story with two sides, as written by both me and my ex.
I think it’s genius! And yes, not his place to go pitching me things, so maybe you weren’t too gung-ho about it but listen—it goes so well with the other pieces you wrote earlier this year. It’ll make a great follow up to investigate the opposing point of view.
It’s nuanced. And I have an extra twist that I think is going to make it even juicier.
I want you to take Ted with you to talk to each of those other men you dated during the first half of the year (as many as you can wrangle on short notice)—interview them in person about why it didn’t work out.
Having him there is going to make them feel more comfortable.
More likely to share an honest response.
And to be frank it’s going to make the inquiry feel official and less like you’re looking to date them again.
Ask if you can record them for the podcast. Write down what you think went wrong, and juxtapose it with what they think.
I already can’t wait to read it. I’d love for this to go live the Sunday after next: It’ll be a great piece to show the board during your renegotiation meeting.
That gives you till next Monday to get me a draft.
I think this is going to be really good for you. I’ve seen you and Ted not talking for the last year and a half.
—Maya
“Oh, my god.” Fucking Ted.
“What?” Jordyn demands.
“Email from Maya.”
“Okay, pin in that. First things first: Did you two do the deed?”
I nod diplomatically. “We did it, I kid you not, like, seven times in the last twenty-four hours.”
Jordyn screams. “And?”
“Best sex in the history of ever. I can’t wrap my head around it. I had to scrape myself off him after. I felt like cheese melted onto a burger.”
A cackle flies out of Jordyn. “What?”
“Like you can’t get the cheese off once it melts on—it’s stuck.”
“Don’t compare yourself to cheese.”
“His hand is like a team of professional fire dancers doing extensive gymnastics in my abdomen.”
She throws popcorn at me. “Oh my god.”
“And . . . he’s my boyfriend.”
She screams again.
I’m lying awake in bed at 4:00 a.m., post the adrenaline rush of reliving the weekend with Jordyn, when my phone lights up with an email.
—
Subject: re:re:re:re:re: RE: RE: Re: Been feeling inspired. Had some fun.
Reed Tyler August 31
Link
—
Tyler-Romona | Message in a bottle
Chapter 5
Derek
She’s coming. I’ve never been more jazzed for a wedding in my entire life.
I kick my feet, giggling. And I die a flattered, turned-on, lustful death, reading our time together from his point of view.
I’ve never been this optimistic about my future. Can someone be so lucky as to have their career and personal life come to a crux at the same time?
Is this really happening? I’m ecstatic and completely terrified at the same time.
September 1—To Do
- 15 days till the Netflix pitch—get on it
- 8 days till contract renegotiation meeting: practice spiel
- 7 days to draft the breakup article with Ted
- Pilates
- Let the tiling people in at 8:00 a.m.
- Record the pod
- Scold Ted
- Call all the vendors for Mom’s wedding and reschedule
- Plan out next week’s pod
- Spend at least an hour on the Netflix pitch
- Grocery store
- Interview Ted about his reasons
- Contact Cedric, Rob, Ed, Sal, Neil, Jasper, Bill, and Bruce
- Call Reed