The nap never happens, and I have to wonder if it’s because I’m so excited from everything this morning. When I finally give up and head to the kitchen to grab a snack, I pick up my phone. “Do you think I should text him now or when I get to work? I don’t want to text him at all. But I know he’ll worry about you.”
I pull up the text thread and type.
Me:
Hey, it’s me. I’m alive.
“Is that good or too morbid?” I’m erasing the words when it pings in my hand.
Theo:
Good morning, or afternoon, really. How did you sleep? Did you eat?
I smile as my finger runs across the screen of my phone.
Me:
Good afternoon. I’m doing so much better. Just had a sandwich.
I press Send before I change my mind, and the phone goes off again right away.
Theo:
What time did you wake up?
“Uh oh,” I mumble. “Do I say I didn’t sleep?”
The phone rings in my hand, and I see it’s him. “I can’t not answer.” The phone rings again. “He’s going to probably freak out if I don’t answer.” My finger slides right, and I put the phone on speaker. “Hello.”
“Hey,” he says. There’s music and a saw buzzing in the background, then I hear a door close on his end, and it’s quiet. “Sorry about that, I was in the middle of the jobsite and figured it would be better to call you than play text tag.”
“That’s okay,” I reply.
“So you napped this whole time?” he asks me.
“Ummm,” I admit to him. “I was lying in bed.”
“So you’ve been up for three hours, and you didn’t text me?”
“Um,” I stall nervously, trying to think of an excuse. “I was hungry.” I close my eyes, hoping he buys the little lie I’m telling him, and then the conversation he had with me yesterday comes roaring back into my head.
I’ve never lied to you, Collins. Not once. And I’m not about to start now.
“Wait,” I snap out, the guilt of lying to him getting to me before he can say anything. “I mean, I was hungry, but I also figured I’d text you when I was heading out to work.”
“What did you eat for lunch?” he asks me, not even acknowledging what I just told him.
I close my eyes as I answer him: “I made a grilled cheese.”
“Did it make you sick?”
“Nope,” I reply when his tone stays the same, and not one part of him sounds angry. “I even had another apple with peanut butter.”
“Good. What time do you start work?”
“Three. I’m about to shower and then head on over and see if I missed anything big yesterday.”
“Okay, have a great shift, and I’ll see you later.” He disconnects.
