Page 60 of Trailer Trash

Me: SATAN

THE PATIENT: Me = eggplant emoji

Okay, he’s being a child. I refuse to look at the phone. It chimes again but I ignore it.

Jaxson, Jaxson, Jaxson.

Knock, knock.

Someone’s here.

I hurry through my trailer and peek through the peephole.

A man in a white uniform holds a vase of roses.

Aww.

I open the door and beam.

“Delivery for Ms. Anderson,” he says.

“That’s me!” I joyfully take the roses. He tips his hat and leaves.

I set the vase on the kitchen table and pluck the card. The front reads:

To my big booty girl

My heart sinks. No, it drops through the floor. It can’t be.

Slowly, I open the card.

Harlow,

I know I promised not to contact you again,

but I have good news. I’m sober for the past year.

I think about you every single day. You are never far

from my thoughts. I hope we can talk. Soon.

Love always,

Evan

My fingers tremble. I set the card down and back away from the roses like they may explode.

My ex.

Oh, God.

I can barely process this. That chapter is supposed to be closed forever. It isn’t just a scab being peeled off. It is a scar being ripped open. He’s not supposed to come back. He isn’t supposed to be in my present or future. To be honest, this feeling... it’s violating.

I rush back to the bathroom and spot my phone next to the flat iron. I scoop it up, determined to call Keysha. A few texts fill my screen.

THE PATIENT: Have fun for real

THE PATIENT: And call me if u need anything