Page 47 of Promise Me Sunshine

Go home and eat.

An hour later I’m lying on the bed next to an unopened takeout bag.

I take a quick selfie doing a peace sign. He’ll recognize the blue-and-gray bedspread under my head and know where I am.

I purposefully do not study exactly how terrible I look in this photo. Raccoon eyes and dry skin and drab brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail because what else am I gonna do with this mess?

Now that he knows where I am, he’s not texting back. My bad selfie sits like a punctuation mark at the end of our chat. I can’t bear it.

Did this horrific picture of me scare you away?I ask after a while.Come on. Pic for pic.

Eat dinner,he texts back.

Boring. Send nudes.

There’s soy sauce in the cabinet if you need it,he texts.

When I get back to my phone there’s a text waiting for me from Miles. It’s a very close-up picture of the pasta he’s eating for dinner.

Not those kinds of noods!I text him.

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Sometimes he textsme first.

For instance, tonight:

Are you doing something dumb right now.

No!I text back.Yes.I’m about to fall asleep at a bar. I stand up and drag my ass out onto the street.Define dumb.

Lenny. ISTG.

Look at you with your acronyms! You’re so hip.

Go get in bed.

I suppose you’re doing something totally normal and healthy right now?

None of your business.

Hey! If I have to report my comings and goings to you, then it should be mutual.

He texts me a picture of two big feet crossed on his coffee table and a Tom Cruise movie on a television screen in the background.

Oooh! Is thatMI4? I’m coming over right now.

But he doesn’t let me ogle Tom Cruise. Instead he rents a classic and, much to my grumbling, we cross number 6,watchThe Godfatherand finally understand what everyone is talking about,off the list.

I fall asleep on his couch and when I wake up, I’ve been folded like a pie crust into blankets. There’s a proper pillow under my head and a glass of water on the coffee table where his feet were last night. Dawn is clearing its throat outside. I fold everything neatly when I leave and head back into the world.

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But most ofthe time, I text him first.

I’ve been crying for almost three hours straight,I text him one night.

Good job. Get it all out.

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