“Because I wouldn’t have called otherwise.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because you blocked me.”
“Oh. Right.”
Another long pause.
“So, what do you want?” she asks.
“I… What do I want? I mean… You told me to call you.”
“OK.”
“OK.”
“So… What did you want me to call you about?”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Oh…” Pause. “I dunno.”
“OK, look, Eden—”
“I’m just sorry, OK? I’m sorry! I’m just… I’m really bad at this stuff. I’m just bad at it. All of it!”
“What? What stuff? What are you talking about?”
“Everything! Just, I dunno. Being a person. I think.”
“What? You’re like one of the best people I’ve ever met.”
“I lied to you. Like, a lot. And you know why?”
“Of course.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. You didn’t wanna get sued, or fired, or whatever.”
“No. I mean… yes. But, no. It’s because I feel like my whole life I’ve been just trying to fit in, and be normal, and be liked, and be… Whatever. And then I meet you, this cool guy, who seems to have his shit together and all figured out, and… And I just wanted to see if I could drag it out a little longer. Just a little longer before it all came crashing down, like everything always does.”
“Eden—”
“No, just lemme finish. And not only that. I mean not just that, but… Also, also I kind of thought if I just stayed away from the truth that the fiction would maybe take over and win. And that I’d win. And that… Shit. I dunno. I just… I was scared. And I’m sorry. OK? I am. I mean, I really, really wanted some cool, awesome speech that explained everything perfectly, but that’s not me, so… Yeah.”
A really long pause.
“Will you say something now, please?” she finally asks.
“Yes.” I take a breath. “So, you don’t have anything to apologize for. I mean, no, that’s bullshit. You do. Of course you do. You lied to me. A lot.”
“I said I was sorry!”
“I know! Yes! Fine! You’re forgiven! Jesus. What I’m trying to say is that, I also have to apologize. Because, frankly, I was lying too.”
“About what?”
“Same shit. That I know anything about how to be a person. Or that I have my shit together. Or anything. Jesus, I mean I’ve run from one corner of the country to the next trying to figure out what I wanna do and who I wanna be. Does that sound like a person who has his shit together?”
“Wow. When you put it like that—”
“But mostly… mostly, I knew it was you and I just lied to myself so that I wouldn’t have to confront it. Or make a choice. Or… Because… Because I really, really like you. Like. Eden?”
“Yeah?”
“Like… I think I’m falling in love with you.”
Silence.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Eden?”
More silence.
What the fuck? Did she hang up on me?
There’s a knock on my office door. I turn around and she’s standing there, holding out her phone.
“Hey,” I say, shocked.
“Hey,” she says.
“I thought you hung up on me.”
She shakes her head. “I was here to talk to you in person anyway. I was gonna surprise you in a cool, kind of dramatic way. But then my phone died.”
“Seriously?”
She nods.
“Your phone died.”
She nods.
“That’s… Funny.”
She nods. Then she says, “You don’t have a charger I can borrow, do you?”
I walk over and stand in front of her. “When did I lose you? On the phone. Just now. What was the last thing you heard?”
“Um… I’m not sure. Maybe you saying that you”—I hold my breath involuntarily—“like me?” I sigh out. “Did you say something else?” I nod. “What?
“I, uh… I dunno. Something about… I dunno.”
I feel like a chickenshit. Because I am. And I want to tell her. I absolutely do. But I want it to be right. And now, here, in the middle of what’s happening…
I just want to make it right. And special. And I want to take the time. To do it right.
But fuck it.
“I think I’m falling in love with you.”
She lowers her head and looks up at me through her lenses.
“What?” she whispers.
“You heard me,” I whisper back.
“I know. But will you say it again anyway?”
I smile. “I think I may be falling in love with you.”
After a moment she says, “For real?”
I take her chin in my hand and lift it up. “Yeah. For real.”
After another moment she says, “That’s pretty cool.”
“I think so.”
“You were smiling,” she says, seemingly out of nowhere.
“What?”
“When you and Pierce outed me. Or, I guess, when I outed myself. You were smiling. Like you were enjoying it.”
“Jesus. I wasn’t. It’s… I smile when I get nervous. I… I just… It’s something I just do so that nobody gets to see… Jesus. I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK,” she says, pouting again.
“Eden?”
“Yeah.”
“That pout fucking kills me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She does it more. “Sorry,” she says. Pouting.
I take her hand in mine.
“What happens now?” she asks.
I shrug. “Honestly? I dunno. You wanna find out together?”
“Do you?”
I nod. “Yeah. I think so.”