She was telling me about fraud. I found this absolutely charming and arresting. I eagerly expressed my support and asked to let me know how it went.
We drank gin. I took a whole roll of film, or, rather, all 10 snaps on my little instax. Edith is easy to photograph. Her large eyes and pretty eyelashes and well manicured brown hair. I don’t remember listening to any music, which is a new experience for me. As far as I can remember. I slept in Edith’s extra room, she even gave me a fan to sleep with, because I can’t sleep alone, without noise.
I woke up the next morning and my boyfriend snapped at me from the street, leaving me standing in a pink tee shirt and panties and white vans, hair askew and in shock. I sat with Edith and cried, for the first time in a long time. Edith, the epitome of tact, said nothing as I got snot on her shirt.
I walked home on the unpaved Beltline, fighting kudzu and listening to Placebo as loud as my phone could manage. I felt hollow. I took an adderall, gearing up to do all this work. I slept for hours, waking only when Liz called me to get dinner. I was in a haze, and accepted. I told her to dress cute because there was no way we couldn’t be that cute together. Liz cooked dinner, we talked and danced and drank champagne and played with these ridiculous expensive Bengal cats and the fancy future hash tampons and all of it. I got home at 3am.
I got home at 3am, and H was spiraling. I couldn’t keep up, the texts came too fast and I was in the back of an uber, speeding home to an empty bed.
I’ve made a bad decision.
I oscillated between rage and fear and anxiety. H, lives alone, in a shit city in Ohio. If he died, there would be no way for me to know. Or to tell anyone. His insistence on the protection of his identity means that only a few people in my real life even know his real name. Liz doesn’t even know, and she was there with me through our entire manifestation of our friendship. From when I was wavering on if we should meet, where we should meet, how we should meet.
I’m doing very bad.
I was calling him before I even got through the door.
Tell me tell me tell me.
I’m invested now, five years in. He can’t die on me now.