Me: That’s the middle of the night.You still could have left a note.
Rachel: The last note I received has thrown me for quite the loop.I don’t want to do that to someone else.
Me: You can leave a note, as long as you don’t die on me.That’s easy.Next?
Rachel: What happened last night?
I smile, knowing I’m going to have a little fun with her.
Me: Let’s just say number 9 is taken care of.
I give it a minute to see her response.When there’s nothing, I second-guess my attempt at humor.I’m certainly not the funny Doyle.I shouldn’t try to be.
Me: TOTALLY kidding.You fell asleep at the kitchen counter.I put you in bed.I took the other side.Both of us were fully dressed, and there was enough room for 3 other people in between us.
Me: I only touched you to pick you up, over clothes.I swear.
Shit, shit, shit.Rachel has massive trust issues.I know that.I was the world’s biggest idiot to even joke about something so delicate.I hit the call button.This isn’t something I can do through text.
"Hello?"
"Rachel, you’ve got to believe me.I was only trying to be funny.I’m not funny.Joey’s the funny one.It takes intelligence to be funny, and we all know I don’t have that.I’m sorry.I …" I falter, not knowing what to say next.
"TJ … Tyler, I’m not upset."Her voice is quiet on the other end of the phone.
"You didn’t answer back."
"I was texting someone else, trying to make plans for tonight.Sorry."
Someone else.Those words hit like a ball to the gut.Maybe she met someone at her new job.Maybe it’s someone in her building.Maybe she’s on Tinder.
It’s none of my business.None at all.
"What are you doing tonight?"I can’t help myself.
"Not sure yet.Things are still up in the air."
"Rach."There’s more than a hint of desperation in my voice."I’m sorry I made that joke about number nine.It wasn’t funny."
I hear her sigh."Richie certainly thought it was, including that on the list.We both swore—pinky-promised each other—that we wouldn’t be like that."
"Like what?I mean, pinky promises are solemn business.I’ve sealed all my professional contracts that way."
She breathes out a laugh."Handshakes and notarized signatures are so last year.Pinky promises are where it’s at."
I sit down on my horribly uncomfortable couch and take a sip of my coffee."Absolutely."
There’s a pause on the line before Rachel continues."Our mom didn’t know the difference between sex and love.She thought if she slept with a guy, he’d love her.She did this—a lot.She was always looking for love.Or at least the love of a man.She had two daughters who adored her, but that wasn’t enough."
That would explain number ten: Forgive Mom.
I couldn’t have imagined what could be so bad that you wouldn’t be on speaking terms with your own mother.I think of Ma, and how she’d go to the ends of the Earth for her boys.It hurts a little knowing Rachel didn’t have that.
"So Richie and I promised each other that we’d value ourselves more than Mom valued herself.That we’d never confuse sex and love, and if we didn’t think we could make that distinction, we’d steer clear until we could."
I don’t know what to say to that.After a moment, I ask, "Why did she put it on the list then?"
"She never really figured out the difference either, but I think she wants me to.I think she wants me to be free and liberated and to be able to experience pleasure without getting all emotional."
