His eyes narrowed threateningly in response, “You’ll answer. Besides, I’m taking the motorcycle.”
I frowned, “Be careful on that thing.”
He nodded once, gave me a half smile, and left. I stood in place for several minutes after he left, motionless except for intermittent smiles and frowns alternating over my features. I replayed our conversation in my head; the phone felt heavy in my pocket. I thought about appealing to Carlos about the phone; as Quinn said, Carlos was my boss and if he decided the phone was unnecessary then maybe I could get out of having to carry it around.
On my way back to my office to eat my now cold lunch I felt the phone vibrate against my thigh. At first I didn’t know what it was and jumped in startled surprise. I fished out the contraption and glanced at the screen; true to his word he’d sent me a joke:
There are 10 kinds of people in the world, those who understand binary numbers and those who don't
I shook my head and said to no one in particular, “What a nerd.”
But, by the time I existed the elevator to my floor I had a silly grin on my face and any thoughts of appealing to Carlos had vanished.
~*~
When I arrived home that night after tutoring on the south side Elizabeth was still gone and it looked like she hadn’t yet returned to the apartment. This was fairly typical and I think was one of the main reasons why she and I were able to cohabitate in a small one bedroom apartment with no issues or drama. That and we were drama free by nature. I plowed through my Chinese takeout then dutifully opened my laptop and began searching for two bedroom apartments.
Three hours later and no real progress made, I navigated instead to my email. As usual, I had an email from my dad; it was a forward of some joke. This was how he communicated with me. I often wondered if my dad knew he could modify the content of messages as he’d never sent me anything but forwarded emails.
There was also an email from Jon.
Jon and I were speaking every few days and meeting for coffee or lunch or dinner since his freak-out a week and a half earlier. It was almost like dating again except we lived separately and the night didn’t end with soft kisses and caresses but rather awkward goodbyes and weird staring contests.
Each time we saw each other he would indirectly- or, sometimes, not so indirectly- bring up the possibility of us getting back together. I hoped that over time he would realize our romantic past was exactly that: the past.
This particular email from Jon was in response to me and a confirmation of changing a lunch to a dinner.
Jon and I were scheduled to meet for lunch on Friday afternoon and I was planning to bring Steven along. One day at work, after reviewing the corporate account structures and during a particularly funny story about one of Steven’s most recent dating disasters, I mentioned to Steven that Jon- my ex- and I were still friends. Steven, his grey eyes narrowing with plain suspicion, said he wanted to see what an amicable break-up looked like; he insisted the concept was as mythical as odor-free cat litter.
However, since Quinn’s announcement less than forty eight hours ago that my days would now include afternoons spent meeting corporate partners, I emailed Jon earlier in the day and canceled the lunch. Instead it was settled that Jon, Steven, and I would all have dinner together tomorrow night at a new Ethiopian restaurant near my place.
Before I closed my inbox another message popped up, sent less than a minutes ago. I blinked at the screen several times before the words made sense.
It was from my younger sister, Jem.
The body of the email was blank but the subject line read: I’m coming to visit, I want to see you.
CHAPTER 10
The next morning I woke up, took a shower, got dressed in ten minutes then spent twenty minutes contemplating my shoe selection. I arrived at the office early and started working through emails, pending tasks, and preparation for my upcoming business trip to Las Vegas in less than two weeks. Minutes ticked by at a cruelly slow pace. My mind wandered to Jem’s strange email.
I was so engrossed in my meanderings that the ring of my cell phone made me jump. Frantically and fumbling I answered. It was ridiculous. My office phone never made me nervous.
“Hello?” I said when I finally brought it to my ear.
“Hey- it’s me. Come downstairs.” Quinn’s gravely tenor sounded from the other end. There was traffic in the background and the roar of a large truck.
I sighed as I stood, gathering my portfolio from the desk, “Why didn’t you just call my office phone? I’m in my office.”
“I wanted to make sure you were reachable on the cell.” I could hear the smile in his voice. I felt half-heartedly annoyed.
“Next time just call the office phone.” I hung up on him before he could respond and felt a little twinge of satisfaction. If he could initiate a conversation with me whenever he wanted then I could end it whenever I wanted.