Textual Encounters: 2 (13 page)

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Authors: Morgan Parker

BOOK: Textual Encounters: 2
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3:03pm:

OK, I’m coming back.

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Jake

3:03pm:

Good. Then we can talk about this.

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3:04pm:

No. No talking. I want to see if I can smell her on you.
Because the way her face is so fucking blotchy, I’m think it wasn’t a game of Scrabble you’d just finished playing

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Jake

3:04pm:

You’re over-reacting, Katie. Besides, I haven’t showered yet today, you don’t want to get THAT close to me.

------------------------------------------

3:05pm:

Oh, stupid me.
You’re right, I’m over-reacting. And nothing happened. Stupid, stupid me.

------------------------------------------

Jake

3:06pm:

Yes, like this past weekend. How about you get close to me like you did this weekend, except this time I’ll get the bed and you can get the floor. Is that close enough for you? Because it’s not close enough for me, Katie. You teased me all weekend and now I’m the bad guy.

------------------------------------------

3:06pm:

Fuck you, Jake.

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Jake

3:06pm:

Don’t do this, Katie.
I’ve offered you everything. Everything. My love. My heart. I shared the deepest parts of my soul to you. You’ve consumed my thoughts every minute of every day and although I wish I could stop thinking about you, I wish I could just get on with my day and life, I can’t. My very existence depends on you. And I hated it.

------------------------------------------

3:07pm:

Y
ou hate it so much that you’re still fucking Rachel and texting Christina.

------------------------------------------

Jake

3:08pm:

In all fairness, it’s because of you that I fucked Rachel. And if I can be really honest, you’re also the reason I still look for Christine. Not ChristinA – are you dyslexic? ChristinE with an E.

 

3:08pm:

You’
re EVERYTHING to me, Katie. I need you more than air. But you PUSHED me. And not just this weekend, you always seem to be pushing me away. Why? Tell me why so I can understand why it’s such a big deal if I have sex with someone so I don’t end groping you and making you hate me? I can’t lose you, but I can’t go without…

 

3:09pm:

I just want you to let me love you. Like when we first met. What was so wrong with that?

------------------------------------------

3:11pm:

For real? What was wrong was that I was the warm body when you need it most, your fuck-buddy.

------------------------------------------

Jake

3:11pm:

But those were YOUR rules! You told me not to fall in love with you and when I did, you completely shut me out. I thought this weekend, you’d see what I’m all about, that I love you and can respect you, even though I’m madly in love with you.

------------------------------------------

3:12pm:

No, t
his weekend was all about me knowing.

------------------------------------------

Jake

3:12pm:

Knowing what? Whether you can keep pushing me away? Because emotionally, I’ll wait my entire life, but physically if you don’t want me, I’ll have to fuck someone else. And that’s Rachel.

------------------------------------------

3:12pm:

No,
I just wanted to know, to feel, to be certain that you truly LOVE me, Jake.

 

3:13pm:

Because I was falling in love with you.

 

3:13pm:

I just wanted to be sure.
And that’s why I came to see you today. You fucking asshole.

------------------------------------------

Jake

3:14pm:

I seriously can’t breathe right now. I can’t think. I’m sorry.

 

3:22pm:

I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean to hurt you. You deserve way better than this. Better than me.

 

6:21pm:

I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been in tears over this, Katie. I’m parked outside your house, waiting for you. You WILL have to talk to me.

 

6:30pm:

I just want you to see my eyes when I tell you how sorry I am. And then you can hit me, kick me, whatever you want. As long as you know I’m sorry and that I love you, I can leave you alone. Forever, if you want.

 

6:33pm:

Or maybe you can give me one more chance. One more chance to prove to you that I love you and can do this for you.

 

8:37pm:

Are you okay? You’re not home yet. I’m starting to worry about you.

------------------------------------------

9:02pm:

Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.

------------------------------------------

Jake

9:03pm:

What does that mean?

 

9:07pm:

Please
Katie, just give me five minutes. I need to see you. I need to explain things.

------------------------------------------

9:15pm:

No Jake.  You. Will. Never. See. Or. Hear. From. Me. Again.

------------------------------------------

Something distracts me from the Samsung. A sixth sense, like when you look up at just the right moment to stare straight into the eyes of the man you love. But in my case, I’m staring straight into the eyes of my husband. He walks into the restaurant and
our eyes meet right away, so I look down to the menu and pretend I didn’t see him.

 

“Shit.”

 

I check the time – Katie is so late now, a good half-hour, that I’m sure she stood me up. I might have considered the fact that she didn’t know what I look like, but based on that last string of texts, she not only knows who I am and what I look like, but she has a picture of me from after I slept with Jake. Somewhere on this phone, in fact.

 

That sixth sense kicks in again and when I looked up, I paste a smile on my face. Because Will’s standing at the end of my table.

 

“Hi,” he says. He looks nervous about seeing me here. He takes a deep breath and nods at the empty chair. “You expecting someone? Can I sit?”

 

He pulls the seat out anyway, sits down and puts his hands on the table. I reach out for one of them, but he draws it back at my touch, reaching into his jacket for his phone instead.

 

“Sorry,” he whispers after reading a quick email. “I don’t have long.”

 

“What are you doing here?” I ask him at last.

 

“I love this place. We’ve been here a dozen times in the last few months. You know I love it here.”

 

I nod, smiling faintly. “Turkey avocado wrap for lunch. The tomato pesto gnocchi for dinner.”

 

He stares blankly at me for a minute, obviously distracted. Then he shakes his head to snap out of it. He grabs his phone again, but puts it down when the waitress arrives.

 

“You’re here,” she says to him, smiling. “Ready to order?”

 

“I need mine to go,” he says. Then to me: “I’m sorry.”

 

He gives his order, I give mine. But he doesn’t order the wrap like he normally does. He asks for a salad instead, the quickest one to prepare, and also hands her his credit card so she can create the bill.

 

Once she leaves, I ask him if everything’s okay. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to see you here, wasn’t expecting to sit down.” Then he realizes something. “So what are you doing here anyway?”

 

I’ve been able to mentally rehearse how I would answer that question. “I’m supposed to meet someone. The girl who found me that night.” And then I rub my tummy where Jake’s baby used to be.

 

Will gives me his sad and apologetic eyes, just like I was hoping he would. “You talked to her?”

 

I shake my head, not really expecting the conversation to get this far. “Texted her. She’s a little late.”

 

He nods at his phone, his breathing a little hurried, a little nervous for some reason. Must be some huge shit show at the office today, something I’ll have to listen to later tonight at dinner, or whenever he drags his workaholic ass home. I’ll check in with Maria – maybe something’s missing from our synced calendar and I can stop in and see Jake, convince him to cook me something nice. Sounds like he was looking for me anyway.

 

“You should text her,” Will says. His voice tells me something horrible is going on. Some days, he hates his job. “You know, to make sure she’s still showing up. I’ll be gone, in case she gets here and sees you with someone.”

 

I grab the Samsung absently. “Oh, right. Sure.”

 

I tap away with Will’s eyes on me.

 

------------------------------------------

10:15am:

Me: Are we still meeting? Or have you stood me up?

------------------------------------------

 

I press S
end. Coincidentally, Will’s phone vibrates on the table –
bzzt, bzzt
– but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s staring straight at me. No, not
at
me, but
through
me.

 

“Everything okay, Will?” I ask, nodding at his phone. “You going to get that?”

 

He shakes his head. He’s so distracted I’m sincerely worried about the mess he’s dealing with at the office right now. How
bad
is it?

 

“You’re not yourself,” I tell him, then smile.

 

The waitress returns, providing him with a legitimate excuse to delay answering me. She hands him the credit card and bill, then tells him his take-out salad is at the bar. “Whenever you’re ready.” And then she walks away, and Will watches her all the way back to the bar where there’s a plastic white bag with a large salad in it.

 

“Has Katie gotten back to you?” he asks, grabbing his phone. But he’s so distracted and I’m so worried about him that I don’t even pick up on the fact that he knows her name. He stands up. “I’m going to get my salad.”

 

I grab the phone and see if she responded. No. She hasn’t even read the message on jAppe – but then the D for Delivered changes to an R for Read. I glance at Will, who’s tapping away en route to the bar.

 

The Samsung vibrates. I pick it up and see Katie’s response.

 

------------------------------------------

10:18am:

Katie2: I’m here.

------------------------------------------

I look around, trying to find a young woman, the young whore who almost managed to convince Jake that he loved her enough to give me up. But there are no other singles at the restaurant. In fact, there are no other women my age or younger. All older, all in business suits.

 

I tap away at the screen.

------------------------------------------

10:19am:

Me: Where are you? I don’t see you???

------------------------------------------

I wait less than a minute for a response, but it was long enough to keep me at the edge of my seat. Where is she?

------------------------------------------

10:19am:

Katie2: I’m at the bar.

------------------------------------------

Except when I look at the bar, there is only one person there: Will. With his back to me, he just stands there like he’s waiting for something. I don’t know what that could be, though. His salad is ready and there are no servers behind the bar.

 

And then I notice his shoulders, their jerking motion. He’s crying. Oh my, he’s crying to himself, alone at the bar. I feel sorry for him until the realization sinks in.

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