It was subtle, but his jaw tightened. “I get that a lot. I’m actually in the last year of my grad program and will be starting my doctorate this fall.”
“Doctorate? So, you’re of the mythical jock-nerd genus...”
He snorted. It was adorable, and I felt something in my stomach turn loose and quiver. “Mini’s got jokes.”
Behind us, the door was flung open and I heard the stamp of feet on the small wooden porch. I recognized that stomp.
“Birdie! Come on, it’s time to go. Shit-for-brains in there just pissed me off.”
“Who’s shit-for-brains?” I asked. I hadn’t realized Remi had come here to see someone specific.
“Levi! Come on, I’ll tell you — oh, damn, am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” Hayes answered, swallowing my ‘no.’
“It’s fine, Remi.” I stood and turned to Hayes, who had risen alongside me. “I’m glad I got the chance to apologize. See you around?”
His tongue darted out, licked his entirely-too-lush bottom lip. “May I have your number?”
I tilted my head to the side, considered. Tempting...but I didn’t want to make things too easy on him. “Tell you what. You come up with it, and I’ll answer your call.”
A slow grin crept over his face and he took another sip of his beer. “Got yourself a deal, Mini.”
“And stop calling me Mini.”
“No problem, Short Stack.”
Rolling my eyes, I flounced across the yard to where Remi was waiting. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” We walked around to the gate in the fence and let ourselves through, rather than going back through the house.
“You two looked very... cozy.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Nah... he’s not my type.”
And yet, when he texted me the next day, I found myself agreeing to eat with him.
Just. That. Easy.
December 11 │Birdie
THE DREAM LINGERED AS I AWOKE. I had fallen asleep on the couch and stretched now, feeling blood and memory flow through my veins.
It wasn’t a dream. It was a memory, a missing piece located and slotted into place as though it had never been lost.
I needed to tell Hayes.
Sitting up, I saw that he had strung lights on the tree. It glowed softly, the only light in the room. The window beyond revealed it was nighttime. I picked up my phone, resting on the coffee table, and saw that it was past midnight.
Well, damn. Hayes was probably asleep. I, on the other hand, was wide awake.
I made my way to my studio and clicked the lamp on atop the desk. Everything was laid out with precise attention to efficiency. Mason jars of pens and brushes were placed neatly beside a stack of wooden flats. Paint in small tins lined a shelf in rainbow order. In the corner of the room, a stack of pre-made frames leaned against the wall.
I pushed aside a piece of paper and pulled a flat across the surface to me. It looked like it had already been painted and was waiting on the next step. Words.
Where did my words come from? I looked around again, more closely this time. There was a tray of paper and a basket of scraps. Plucking one out, I saw that it had a line of verse scribbled on it.
“Sometimes
the only way
to catch
your breath
is to
lose it
completely.”
I pulled another out.
“Oh, what we could be
if we stopped
carrying the remains
of who we were.”
There was a piece of paper lying beside it, and I read that next.
The handwriting was different from the other notes, and when I started reading it became clear that Hayes had made this to-do list. I wasn’t certain of its purpose. It was a hodge podge of items. Decorate the nursery. Kiss her. Elf. Tell her.
Tell her? Tell me what?
Uncertainty replaced my earlier euphoria and suddenly I was just tired. I set the note down on the desk and clicked off the light, then trudged through the darkness to my bed.
“I believe
in love at first sight
but am not burdened with the misconception
that it's a first sight
at all.”
Tyler Knott Gregson
December 12 │Birdie
MY PHONE TAUNTED ME FROM THE SPOT WHERE I’D LAID IT ON THE COUNTER. After this weekend, I’d half expected Hayes to call or text when he went to work. Aside from that, I really wanted to ask him about his cryptic list.
When I woke up this morning, though, there was nothing. He had risen early without waking me and the house was still and lonely. After our stairwell encounter on Saturday, he’d made himself scarce. I didn’t understand it and had no idea where he’d disappeared to. He’d kissed the hell out of me and then ran, as if he was afraid I would if he didn’t.
I was dying to tell him I’d remembered something last night. I was still marveling over how the memory had just been there, like it had never been absent, when I awoke. With no one to celebrate my victory, a feeling of dullness crept over me.
As I brewed the cup of morning tea I’d taken to drinking in lieu of coffee — decaf, ugh — I picked up my phone and unlocked it, flipping idly through the generic phone apps that came pre-installed. It might as well belong to anyone. There was nothing about it to indicate that it was mine, and while technically I knew I needed to personalize it, the anonymity of it was frustrating.
I was ready to be me again.
A glance at the time revealed plenty of time before I needed to be anywhere. I should be able to access previous usage information, right? I seemed to remember getting a new phone before, the guy in the cellular store updating it for me so it retained all of my contacts, texts, apps, and photos. After a quick google session, I knew how to do what I needed to and it seemed fairly simple. The only difficulty would be remembering my password.
I opened a browser to sign into my iCloud account, closed my eyes at the login prompt, and tried to empty my mind. Opening my eyes, I typed the first email that came to mind. I had no idea if it was current, or from when I was in high school. At least it was a Gmail and not an AOL account…that had to be a good sign.
I did the same with my password, entering my old dog’s name and numbers corresponding to my birthday.
Incorrect password. Damnit.
I tried a couple of other possibilities before giving up and resetting my password, which was relatively simple given that the program sent a code to my device to verify identity and then allowed me to pick something different.
Once I was logged in, the process of updating the device with a recent backup was easy peasy lemon squeezy, and I set the phone on the counter to finish the process while I went upstairs to shower.
The back-up was finished by the time I finished getting dressed. I opened up the text messages, which because of the backup dated back a few weeks. For some inexplicable reason, I held my breath as I scrolled down. The most recent was from Remi, a meme of a vaguely familiar man saying ‘hey, girl’.
There was a string from Mom, mostly about picking up some milk for her and her plans to move and work for her brother. It made me feel better to know that we had talked about this, that I had known.