Page 142 of Old Acquaintances

“Ella?” he answered right away. We never called each other on the phone. We only ever sent texts when they were in a group message. “Ella, are you okay?”

I wish I had stopped crying before I called. He would think something was wrong.

“Hey,” I said.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I sighed.

“Why are you calling me?” he asked.

I loved the sound of his voice. I’d never noticed it before. How could someone have such a perfect voice? It bore throughmy skin.

I started, “Tucker, can I tell you something?”

“You can tell me anything. Wait - hang on.” It sounded like he was at a bar. A few seconds later, he said, “Okay, I’m here. What’s up?”

I imagined him standing outside on a brick-paved sidewalk, under the moonlight and dripping Spanish moss. The sound of late summer crickets. Half-drink girls wobbling on heels.

I said, “I should probably tell you this in person, but I just can’t wait any longer.”

“Are you hurt? Is somebody sick?”

“No. Elijah, I have to tell you…” I clutched his Pine Place baseball sweatshirt. He didn’t have to feel the same way. I just needed to say it. “That I love you.”

Silence. Then: “What?”

“I’m in love with you.”

“Is this a joke?” he snapped.

“No.”

“Am I being pranked?”

“No.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No.”

He inhaled. “You’re saying…that you love me?”

“Yes.” I sniffled, wishing I could see him in the bits of silence between words.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why me?”

I rested my head against the wall. My leg stretched out and hit a shoe. “Because no one else is you.” I collected my thoughts.

I said, “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. You care about me more than anyone in the world. I dream about you touching me and kissing me. I want to hear your voice every day. I want you to hold me and I want to hold you back. Every time I’m with anyone else, I just wish they were you. I never wish you wereanyone else. I’ll always feel lucky that you’ve cared about me for my whole life. I want to be there for you like you’ve always been there for me. I want to love you like you’ve made me feel loved.”

He listens, quietly. Low and heavy, he begs, “Are you sure?”

“I didn’t know it before. I didn’t recognize it. But I know now. I love you so much. I’ll always love you.”

“Fuck, Ella.” I hear him sniffle. His voice is clogged. “God, I love you. You know I love you.”

“For real?”

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