Page 46 of Reel Love

Yes. Did something happen?

It most definitely did. Tonight, we were having a family dinner. My brother dropped a bomb. He’s moving away to another state here in America.

He pauses and then he types:Everything will be different when he leaves.

So, Wordivore’s in America. I figured as much, since we play in English. But with online things, you never know. I toss around whether I should answer him with what’s in my heart or keep things a little more neutral. Wordivore helped me so much with my last struggle. I sort of owe him the same kind of encouragement he gave me.

I decide to go all in. I won’t tell him who I am or what I do, but I’ll share from the heart.

In my line of work, I do a lot of short-term projects that last only a few months at a time. Just when I’m starting to get to know the people (who I’m spending ten to twelve hours a day with), my workload changes and I’m surrounded by a new group of people.

There are those people who are with me through it all, but I am constantly moving from one project to the next. My situation is not the same as having siblings. I just want you to know I do sort of relate to having to let go of someone before you’re ready to. And Idon’t know where your sibling is going, but I imagine you can still visit. Am I right?

You are. And now you have me very, very curious as to what you do for a living.

Next question, please. That’s one I’m definitely not answering.

Are you a mural painter?

No.I chuckle.

Do you travel from farm to farm training goats?

No.My smile spreads across my face, filling me with an odd warmth.

You can’t be in the circus. Those people travel together. Maybe you’re a traveling saleswoman. Door to door sales of cleaning supplies, miracle diet products … No! Solar panels. Tell me you’re not a solar saleswoman. I don’t know if we could still be friends. Those people show up at all hours asking if you’ve considered solar.

Not solar,I type.

You’re in the rodeo.

Sorry to disappoint. Not in the rodeo.I turn the tables on him. This line of questioning has to be shut down.How about you? What do you do for work?

Ah ah ah.He playfully chides. I won’t show mine if you don’t show yours. Maybe you need to ask me something else.

Maybe. I think that’s enough disclosure for one night, though.

Fair enough,he answers.

I wouldn’t mind learning what he does—and a lot more about him. But I can’t tell him what I do because that will lead to who I am. And he can never know that.

We play for nearly two hours without any other personal conversation. Wordivore beats me by twelve points in the end. I’m more relaxed and content than I’ve been nearly all week.

When we go to say goodnight, he types:Have fun training goats tomorrow.

And you have fun doing whatever it is you do.

I’ll give you a hint,he says.

Okay.I sit up a little straighter waiting for one more detail about his life outside our online interactions.

He types:It’s not training goats. I leave that to the experts.

I smile.Goodnight, Wordivore.

Goodnight, SaturdayIslandGirl.

Brigitte arrived an hour ago like a cloud of rainbow smoke fireworks. She’s loud and bold and beautiful, filling my home with life.

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