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Where are you?
Minnehan party.
I know. K sent
me your pic. Where at M’han?
Bathroom.
There’s a pause. Then, K’s a fucking idiot.
I overreacted.
It’s ok. Everybody has an off night.
Why is it that when other people tell you things you already know, it’s soothing?
Why is it that when West tells me I’m okay, I believe him? Not that he can make me okay, but just to have that touchstone.
I want to tell him about Nate, but I want forget it happened even more.
Are you still at work?
No. Just got off. A pause. That sounded dirty.
I smile at the phone.
You should go back in there. K said you’re helping him pull chicks. Another pause. But they’re all dykes.
Homophobe!
Not me. Quinn will tell you—all those girls call themselves that.
They call themselves women, I type, but that’s not what I meant to say.
Womyn, I try a second time, but it autocorrects to Women.
I give it a third shot. W-o-m-y-n. Fucking autocrochet.
There’s a pause, and then West writes, Autocrochet? I’m dying.
I blink at the screen. Oh. Yeah, it seems I typed that. Glad I can amuse you.
I take a deep breath. It takes my fingers three tries to make the words Come dance?
A longer pause.
Need to sleep.
I’m sure it’s true. He only sleeps about four hours a night during the week. He told me he uses the weekends to catch up.
OK. Sleep tight.
Another pause, and I’m starting to think we’re done, that I should leave the bathroom, go home, and go to bed, when another bubble pops up. Caroline?
Yeah?
Tuesday is cookie day.
