There it is again, that tiny flicker of humor. It makes me want to keep going just to see if I can coax more of it out of her.
Lucy: I should probably study.
The words are normal. Responsible. But something feels off.
Me: Everything okay?
The delivered sign pops up, and then nothing. I wait. The longer the silence stretches, the more certain I am that I hit something.
Finally, the dots appear.
Lucy: Yeah, it’s okay.
That’s a lie if I’ve ever seen one. I know lies like that because I’ve told enough of them. Then another message comes in.
Lucy: Family dinner with my parents was a lot.
There’s a whole story sitting behind those words. Everything in me wants to ask who made it hard. Who said something. Who made her sound like this through a text, but I don’t.
Me: Want me to distract you? I’m very good at being ridiculous.
Lucy: I noticed.
Me: Excellent. That means my best qualities are already shining through.
Lucy: Being ridiculous is your best quality?
Me: Top five, easy.
Lucy: What are the other four?
Me: I can’t reveal all my secrets in the first text conversation.
Lucy: That seems fair.
Me: But I’ll give you one.
Lucy: Okay.
Me: I’m very good at eating soup dramatically.
Lucy: How does someone eat soup dramatically?
Me: Only if the soup doesn’t respect the performance.
Lucy: I don’t think soup can respect anything.
Me: That’s because you haven’t met the right soup.
She sends back a laughing emoji, just one, and I stare at it longer than any grown man should. Because somewhere on the other end of this conversation, after a family dinner that was a lot, Lucy Parker is smiling.
I don’t know what happened tonight, but I know this, I want to be the place Lucy can breathe. I don’t want to fix her life. I just want to make it a little lighter.
Me: How’s studying going?
Lucy: Honestly?
Me: I mean yeah. What’s the point of texting if you can’t be honest? What are you studying?
