Page 53 of Make Me Laugh

I’ve typed out about a hundred replies ranging from, crazy coming from someone with a profile pic like that, to, how’s the view from your mom’s basement, you fucking loser?

I don’t post any of them, even though it kills me inside not to. Joey made it clear that I shouldn’t engage or post anything until Tuesday—in her mind it gives people time to forget about us.

Frankly, I think the silence has only made it worse. Especially with pictures of her at my shows this weekend popping up, new theories spanning the internet farther and wider.

We out-trended the premier of The Bachelor…

I fuck up my pace and fall behind my average, never able to clear my mind during my run like I’m usually able to. I’m definitely pushing myself harder than I should anyway, straining an already tired knee from a long week with not much rest.

My body’s tired, and so is my brain.

Going for a run was better than the alternative: continue to doomscroll, looking at comment after comment until the sun began to brighten the sky, and I was still lying on my back in the middle of a fucking parking lot.

A text interrupts the heavy metal playlist I chose this morning blaring in my ears—my phone’s alerted me multiple times to turn the volume down. I pause under the shade of a tree, hiding my screen from the glare of the bright morning sun.

Enzo

Are you alive?

Me

Remember that time I ran a 5k beer crawl on no sleep?

Enzo

You’re alive, okay good. Where are you?

Me

On a run, feeling kinda like I did during that 5k

Enzo

Get back here.

Me

Aww you miss me?

Enzo

Jo’s still here.

My eyes shoot to the time on my phone. It’s 9:00 a.m.

Her train arrives in ten minutes. Joey should be gone.

Me

Why isn’t she at the train station?

I swipe to a rideshare app and find a driver two minutes from my location. Fuck running back—I don’t really even know where I am, anyway. I’d just started running like Forrest fucking Gump!

Before the car arrives, I’ve nearly walked a drag path in the sidewalk. I don’t say a word when I get inside, sinking into the back seat.

I’m sticky with sweat, and even though the car’s warm, goosebumps run down my skin.

Me