Page 35 of Debugging Love

“Danni. What did Chance do? Was he mean to you?”

“Of course, he was mean.” I prop my feet on my ottoman and tug my sherpa blanket over my legs. Episode Three ofWednesdayflickers on the flatscreen in front of me. I turned the volume down when Morgan called me.

“So, how was he mean?” Morgan asks. Pots and pans clatter in the background. “What did he do?”

“He asked me if I had scoliosis. I told him my butt looks like Uranus. And then I accidentally made a culturally insensitive remark about his home country.”

“Back up. Why would someone ask someone else if they have scoliosis?”

“It’s appropriate for a doctor to ask.”

“Yeah. If you’re in a doctor’s office.”

“I told him it was rude.”

“Yeah.”

Morgan’s voice is muffled. I think her head is in the refrigerator. I hear a crisper drawer open and close, and the door thud. She leans over the camera, her hair dangling like limp spaghetti noodles. “That is really rude.” She disappears from my phone again.

“I explained why I’m sitting crooked. I told him it was his fault that I fell down the stairs. He didn’t buy it.”

Morgan’s head pops into frame. “I can’t believe you stole my line.” She snickers.

“The Uranus one? Yeah. He thought it was funny too. He spit Sprite all over my face.”

“And that made you mad?”

A television turns on and I hear Kayla holler, “What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t care,” Morgan hollers back.

Sometimes I wish I had a roommate. FaceTiming is great, but it’s not the same as having a girlfriend next to you on the couch while you share your most embarrassing moments.

“No. That’s not it.” I lean my head back and scowl at the ceiling. I can’t believe I let him get to me. It puts him in the power seat!

“What did you say that was culturally inappropriate?”

“I told him he grew up in a pigsty or a sewer pipe. That didn’t go over well.”

I hear Morgan gasp, and then I hear the pitter-pattering of her feet as she runs to the phone. Her face appears. “Oh no!”

“He thought I was implying that India is a dirty place.”

Morgan picks up the phone and scratches her head. “Okay. Don’t get mad. But I can maybe see why he took it the wrong way.”

“Me too.” My stomach growls. My frown deepens. “It wasn’t my best moment. I wish I could take it back.”

“Did you apologize?”

“Of course, but he just kept pressing, and I don’t know. I’m PMS-ing. My brain just— I don’t know why I even care.”

“No one wants to be called a racist xenophobe.”

“He didn’t call me that.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not, am I?”

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