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Gracie: I actually love roller coasters! It’s just all the signs said not to ride if you were pregnant and I didn’t know what to do so I lied and said I didn’t like them. I am so sorry but I swear the drinking and coasters are it! I really really love coasters.
Georgia: I think I can live with that. You’re forgiven.
Gracie: Thank you.
Georgia: Of course.
Gracie: No I mean it.
Gracie: Thank you.
Gracie: For not hating me.
Georgia: I could never hate you. I understand everything now.
Georgia: Would you like to get coffee again sometime soon?
Georgia: Frances would love to see you again. She said we could even take Ireland to the park or something if you would rather do that?
Georgia: Em, you still there?
Georgia: Sleep good, Gracie.
Gracie . . . he called me Gracie!
He forgives me and doesn’t hate me!
I feel myself start to break out into a full sweat and must re-read it instantly and let the analysis begin. Steps must be retraced to make sure I didn’t miss anything too embarrassing.
The first notable item is that this all started with the potential to go very bad when I mentioned dancing on the beach because what followed that dancing was very naughty. He didn’t go there so that could mean he was being a gentleman because I was drunk, or he didn’t want to remember the naughty times.
Second, I called it our album, so embarrassing! I can feel my cheeks getting hotter and hotter. This he didn’t comment on, but was that because that album doesn’t hold the same meaning for him or because he knew that I was drunk and didn’t want to get too deep?
Third, he made it a point to call himself a friend and he did this in quotes. This could mean he’s calling me out on friend-zoning him or does it mean something else? People usually drunk text their ex’s or people they have a thing for. He is both to me, but maybe not in his mind?
Fourth, he called me out on my lies and forgave me. He forgave me for everything and I was passed out.
Fifth, and the most important and notable item is that he called me Gracie. He knows what that means to me and he still called me Gracie.
I would say as far as drunk texting goes this wasn’t too bad, but I am still mortified. Do I text him back and say I’m sorry? Well, not now, it’s the middle of the night and I don’t want to wake him up, but I would love to call and wake Cami up. She was clearly with me for some of this and I’m sure she was encouraging me. Some best friend I have. I could have confessed my undying love for him and she would have let me. Man, am I lucky it didn’t go any worse than it did. Thank God for granting me this small miracle.
Now if this headache would go away and I wasn’t so full of adrenaline I could go back to sleep. That would be a couple of miracles I could stand, but I don’t see that happening in the next hour or so. I guess I’m up for the day. Today is going to suck . . .
Wildflowers
Jonathan
I feel anxious . . . excited, but anxious. What family I have left is going to be here, staying in my house that I am so proud of, and that I was able to pay for free and clear thanks to my mom and my frugal four years in the Marine Corps. On top of the Fanuas coming to visit the other reason for my excitement—little girl giddiness, if I’m honest—is the fact that since Emily drunk texted me, we’ve continued to text. That was Monday night and now it’s Thursday and we’re still talking.
We aren’t having deep conversations, it’s just little things but it’s something. It started with her apologizing for texting me when she was drunk. I wasn’t sorry though, not at all. The hope that soared through me just knowing that she thought of me, of our album, and that my forgiveness meant so much to her, was something I couldn’t put into words. As we texted, I told her not to feel bad and asked her how she felt that next morning. She wasn’t feeling too hot so I decided I would text again in the afternoon to check on her and it went on from there. We’re just saying hi and asking how each other’s days are . . . for now. It’s not a relationship but it’s a start. Every text I get from her fills me with just a little more hope. Hope that I can get her to see how much more we could be.
My best friend Liam and his family are on their way from the airport. Liam texted me when they landed and said they were going to get their bags and rental car and be here shortly. I can’t wait and I’m so amped that I can’t sit still while I make sure the house is just right. I’m not the most organized or tidy person. I keep things clean but there isn’t much organization involved. It works for me and Frances puts up with it. I feel like sharing the home that was always meant for my mom with her closest friends, is like sharing it with her. The nerves and excitement I’m feeling are a surprise, but they’re my family and I haven’t seen them in close to a year.
After about forty-five minutes of waiting there are finally headlights in my driveway and I race out to meet them. Fiona is the first one out of the Ford Focus rental car and she rushes to me, gives me a peck on the cheek, and throws her arms around me. Fiona may only be a little over five feet tall, but she’s a sturdy woman and gives hugs that nearly take your breath away.
“Oh my, sweet boy, it is so darned good to see you. You look as handsome as ever!” She says with a spark in her shining green eyes.
“Thanks, Mrs. F. Let me help you with your bags and get you inside. Frances can’t wait to meet all of you.”
