Page 63 of Forced Proximity

Justin: I’ll call soon.

There, I responded.

Now that I took care of that, time to take care of things with Doc. I have an idea, but it’s a gamble.

But I’m not going out without a fight.

Chapter 30

Justin

Nearly a week had passed since I sent my mom the text. I talked to Mia, who told me our mom would have to hire one hell of a private investigator to find her in Seattle. And even if she succeeded, Mia assured me she’d be fine. But I’ve heard that from her before, and it’s hard to believe. It takes a few days until I let go of the fear of my mom doing something terrible to Mia and resume my daily routine – refusing to believe Doc is gone.

This past week, we swapped dozens of texts. There’s something about learning a new side of a person strictly through digital. Doc is way funnier and more devilishly sarcastic than I’d known, and I eat it up. It feels like this is a portal that she only shares with those closest to her. And she’s sharing it with me. This probably does not help my delusion that she’s coming back, but right now, each message is a Band-Aid holding me together.

I settle back into the bed. For the amount of dopamine I receive from these messages, I could bottle and sell it and make as much as my salary.

Justin: I need your help.

Doc: are you ok?

Justin: yeah, but I’m struggling tonight. Fast Times at Ridgemont High Dazed and Confused?

Doc: You’re an ass. I thought you were hurt.

Justin: my heart is hurt because I can’t choose.

Justin: Debauchery in high school. Do we go Matthew McConaughey or Sean Penn?

Doc: well, there’s that famous Phoebe Cates scene … I mean, can we just say bi-awakening time?

Oh damn. Her message taps into something primal and I’m immediately transported to a horny teen. I shift on my bed.

Justin: True. But there’s the original ‘all right, all right, all right’ from McConaughey.

I head into the bathroom to brush and floss and stare at my phone. When a notification pops up, I spit in the sink and lean against the counter.

Doc: Here’s a question. Who would you rather? Sean Penn or Matthew McConaughey.

Justin: Are you seriously asking me who I’d rather sleep with?

Doc: yep. If you had to. Choose one.

Justin: Hmmm. Can you add George Clooney to the mix, who is universally fuckable?

Doc: Ha ha. That’s totally fair.

Justin: You leave me no choice. Same question back to you.

Doc: Hmmm. Add Lady Gaga, Jodie Foster and Kristen Stewart to the mix, please.

Justin: I have so many questions about your type. Remind me to ask you a ton of super invasive personal questions the next time I see you.

I slip this in to see if she’ll bite. I’ve asked her a few times to meet for coffee or lunch, and she turns me down. Sometimes I’ll ask her if she misses my cooking and jokingly remind her to never ever cook on high, even if the recipe says it. But so far, she’s avoided the conversation. Just like now, when she responds with nothing but a laugh crying emoji.

Doc is easily spooked. I need to respect that and back off. A little.

Justin: Saving Private Ryan. The best war movie of all time.