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Her message appeared almost instantly.
I’m sorry about your dad.
A long pause, and then another message from Kate.
My mom is dead, too.
Her words held weight, too, as if the screen knew their power. He typed automatically.
I’m sorry.
Then he added,
Don’t you hate when people say that?
Yes. I’m sorry I said it.
Me, too.
This time the pause was really long, as he fought for something to say after that. He wondered if she’d given up on the texting, when a new one appeared.
How did your dad die?
Normally the question would piss him off. But it was different in a text message, from someone else who’d lost a parent.
In a car accident. I was with him. My uncle died, too.
My mom drowned last year.
Hunter flinched. Somehow it seemed worse—but what was the difference?
Another message popped up on the screen.
It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.
It should have seemed like a weird statement—but he got it.
I know exactly what you mean.
Were you and your dad close?
The words hit him like a bullet. Close.
He and his father hadn’t always gotten along, but Hunter had always felt like his father understood him.
He slid his fingers across the screen.
Yeah. Sort of. Sometimes not at all. Bizarre, right?
We’re all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that’s all.
He smiled.
Was that a quote from The Breakfast Club?
O_O Most people don’t get that one.
My uncle loved eighties movies. I’ve seen them all.
