Page 107 of The Accidental Text

“Hannah’s still off-limits.”

“Damn,” he says, looking to the side.

“So’s Robin,” I say.

“You ruin all my fun.”

I wink at him. “Now you sound like the brother I know.”

Later that night as I’m lying in my bed, my phone beeps. I grab it and look at it. It’s Chase. It’s been so long since I last heard from him, I’d thought maybe that was it. That he’d given up. No such luck.

I look at the text because I feel like I’m in a mood to torture myself. Can’t wait to see which version ofCan we talk?he decided to send.

Chase:You were right

Well, that’s new.You were right. I go to text back, but then, what could I say?Yes, of course I’m rightor justDuh. I could send him one of those emojis with the eyes rolling.

My phone beeps again.

Chase:I’m sorry.

I don’t know what he has to be sorry for. It’s his own feelings he was avoiding. He needs to apologize to himself. Or maybe he realizes that I was also part of his subconscious plan to avoid his emotions. I guess he could apologize for that. Or worse yet, he’s apologizing because he doesn’t reciprocate my feelings.

Maybe he’s sorry for telling me that I was avoiding my feelings. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about that … and he could be right. It does seem like the anxiety surrounding the jump is shielding me from feeling something else. The problem is, I don’t know what it is.

I could text him back that I’m sorry too, but I’m not sorry. Well, I’m sorry that I told him how I feel, and that I got so many things wrong with that.

The truth is, I’m still not ready to talk to him. Maybe I’ll get over all these emotions I’m having right now. Maybe when the dust settles I’ll want him back in my life. As a friend, of course. But I’d have to be okay with that, and I just don’t know how long that will take.

Chapter 31

On Thursday morning I wake up to six texts from Chase. Now Iamstarting to feel a little annoyed.Come on, Chase, you’re a smart guy.

I open my app anyway and click on his name.

Chase:Hi, Mom. A wise person once told me that writing out your feelings can be therapeutic, so I’m going to give it a shot. I’m not exactly sure how to do this, but here goes. I … miss you. You left so unexpectedly. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I’ve never felt so hurt, or heartbroken. I’ve never felt so sad about anything in my life. I’ve been avoiding my feelings, trying anything to just not feel. Don’t worry, I’ve stayed away from the wrong stuff. But I’ve still been avoiding. I’ve been coping in other ways. You’d be impressed by the list of adventurous things I’ve tried … I’ve become a bit of an adrenaline junkie. Or maybe you wouldn’t. You never got into that stuff. I just want to say that I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save you. I felt so helpless in that hospital room, seeing all those machines hooked up to you. I’m just so sorry. This is really hard. Feeling my feelings.

Chase:Hi, Mom. Dad is not doing well. I’m sure that’s to be expected, but I don’t know how to handle it. And what I’ve been doing so far—ignoring it all and hoping things willchange—is not working. He hardly ever talks to me or Kenzie. He just sits in that house, in his robe, watching TV. Kenzie has been checking on him. I need to. Speaking of Kenzie (I don’t want to be a tattle, but), she didn’t want to get married after you died. She wanted to cancel it. But Trevor talked her around. I’m glad she has him. Someone she can talk to. The wedding is still happening in February, by the way. So all that prep you did was worth it. Kenzie is happy that you were there when she picked out her dress. But we both agree it won’t be the same without you. None of this life is the same without you. I hate that feeling. You’re the glue, Mom. You’re what kept us together. Without you, it feels like we’re all a little lost. I know I am.

Chase:Hey, Mom. Remember that time when Kenz and I were younger and you came home from work to find the paint peeled off that kitchen cabinet? And no one would admit to it? It was me. I’d found a piece of paint that had gotten wet in the corner, and it just … peeled off. It was really fun. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But I guess you probably knew. So thanks for not calling me out on it. Also, that goat in the lunchroom my senior year? Also me. I know you found that funny, but maybe you wouldn’t have if you’d known who did it. I have more. SO much more. Maybe you don’t want to know. It feels good to tell you, though.

Chase:Hi, Mom. I just called Dad. We talked for 30 minutes. It was good to hear his voice. I should have been talking to him more. I hate that I avoided him so much. It hurts to admit that—to write it to you. I have to face it, though. I have to own it. I can see you looking down on me now, shaking your head the way you used to when you disapproved of somethingI’d done. I deserve the disapproval. I’ll make it right, Mom. I promise. Anyway, it was good to talk to Dad. He … he sounded better as the conversation went on. We talked about you, and about Kenzie, and about me leaving for London. I promised I would go over there tomorrow and see him before I left. I also told him he should come visit me in London, and for the first time, I heard a bit of lightness in his voice. Maybe? Like that thought—him coming to see me—made his day a little lighter. I hope he does come to see me.

Chase:Hey, Mom. I saw Dad today. Kenzie came too. It’s one of the few times we’ve been together since the funeral. It was horrible to realize that. I’ve been selfish. I’m trying not to beat myself up about it. What good would it do? That’s what you would tell me—what good would it do? I can still hear your voice in my head. So perfectly. We talked about you a lot … and cried. It was good. It was good to talk about you with the people who love you the most in this world. You are missed, Mom. So much.

Chase:I’ve been writing these in my notes app on my phone for the past few days. Thought you might want to read them. Or maybe you don’t. But either way, you were right … it feels like therapy.

I stare at my phone, feeling so many things in this moment. I’ve been crying as I’ve read his words, the tears flowing freely down my face. I feel all this—everything that he’s written. I know exactly where he’s coming from.

I send him back a text.

Maggie:I’m glad it helped.

Then I send a heart emoji.

“What are you going to do?” Hannah asks that night overgamjatangthat Halmoni made us. It’s a spicy soup with pork and potatoes, and it’s amazing. I’m on my second bowl, which got a pat of approval on my head from Halmoni.

I’ve just told Hannah about Chase’s texts. I didn’t let her read them—it felt like betraying a trust to do that. I just gave her general information.

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