Page 15 of The Accidental Text

“I don’t understand why you got rid of her number,” I say, trying to keep the wobble out of my voice.

“I didn’t understand why you wanted to keep it, honestly. She couldn’t take it with her. Seemed … kinda silly.”

I exhale slowly, a single tear falling down my cheek. I focus again on the jewelry box.

I know it didn’t make sense, even when I asked for him to keep the phone. But it felt too soon to get rid of it. It felt so final. Chelsea and Devon agreed with me. At least I thought they did. Now that I think of it, it could have been only me petitioning to keep the phone.

“It’s … I just …” I stammer over my words, not sure what to say.

“It’s just a phone, Mags.”

I know this; I know it’s just a phone. But it washerphone. My mom’s. And now it’s not. No one really understands.

“You’re right,” I say. “It’s just a phone.”

I tell my dad that I love him and that I’ll see him at work. I hang up and lie back dramatically on my pillow. After a bit, I pick up my phone and text the question I really need an answer to.

Maggie:How long have you had this number?

Mom:…

I wait, watching the three dots stare at me. They appear and then disappear, only to reappear again.

I stare up at the ceiling while I await the answer. After a minute of this, my phone vibrates in my hand and I look down at the screen.

Mom:For about two weeks now

“TWO WEEKS?” I screech and cover my mouth with the hand not holding my phone.

Two weeks is a long time anda lotof texts. At least one a day. And maybe sometimes more, depending on how I was feeling at the time.

I think about all the things I could have talked about in the past two weeks. It’s so much my addled brain can’t even narrow it down right now.

My phone vibrates in my hand.

Mom:I’m so sorry. I should have told you before. I just felt bad. You seemed like you needed to vent.

I was definitely venting. What the hell did I tell this person?

I start scrolling back through the most recent texts I’ve sent to my mom. Seeing words pop out likeworst period ever, andsomething about my boobs, and oh my gosh—an entire text yesterday about Dawson’s butt.

And for the past two weeks I was texting all this to a stranger. There was someone on the other end.

My phone vibrates again.

Mom:So, I thought I should tell you. I’m sorry it took me so long.

I stare at the phone. I have no idea what to say back. Do I get mad and say,Yeah, you should have said something, you stalker!OrNo worries! Happens to us all!But this doesn’t happen to people. And this person isn’t really a stalker, because it’s not like they searched me out … even if they were reading my texts without saying anything. My secret texts to my mom who can’t even read them.

I decide to take the high road. It’s not this person’s fault I’m having a crisis.

Maggie:Thank you for telling me. Sorry for the mix-up.

Mom:No problem

I let out a breath. Everything is fine. I’ll never see this person. It’s probably some middle-aged woman or something. Or maybe a grandma. I don’t owe them any explanations. Although I’m sure whoever it is can gather exactly what was happening.

I look down at my phone, and the three dots are back. My phone vibrates as a new text comes in.

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