Page 29 of The Accidental Text

This is stupid. This is definitely like finding Chelsea’s diary.

I scroll down again, watching some new texts populate.

My stomach does a little bobbing thing as these texts fill the screen. There’s one with just a kissy-face emoji. And another text from my dad asking when she’s coming over.

When I scroll down again, there’s a text from June calling him “Babe,” and then there’s another one that’s just the fire emoji, and next to it, it says “our song.” To which my dad has sent back a fire emoji. There really are so many emojis going on here.

“Oursong?” Chelsea reads the text out loud.

“What song is that?” Devon asks. “And why would they have a song?”

“Is there a fire song?” I ask, looking from Chelsea to Devon.

Chelsea pulls her phone from her back pocket and, pulling up her music app, does a search.

“There’s a song called ‘Fire,’” she says. “By … the Pointer Sisters?”

“Play it,” Devon says.

She hits play and then turns up the volume.

We all gather in tighter, listening to the song as it begins, the chords of an electric guitar playing a catchy rhythm with a strong bass line.

Chelsea lifts the phone up higher so we can hear it better through her tiny speaker. The singer starts out and we listen to the words, taking turns glancing at each other. I wonder if we got this right. Maybe June meant a different song.

The words are benign enough. Something about the car radio and someone’s saying they’re a liar. But then all of our eyes go wide as the opening verse moves to three-part harmony and suddenly they’re singing about kissing and fire and, oh my gosh, this song is … well, it’s sexy and a little dirty and I kind of wish we never did this.

Chelsea, also looking a little green, stops the song and the three of us just stand there, staring at each other.

“What the hell?” Devon finally says.

I look down at the phone in my hand, my dad’s phone. The screen has now timed out and gone black.

“Put it back,” Chelsea says, almost in a panic. “Just, put it back now.”

I do as she says, and then without words the three of us walk down the hall to my office.

“So this is bigger than we thought,” I say as soon as the door is shut.

“What do we do?” Devon asks.

“What can we do?” says Chelsea.

We all look at each other.

You can tell when the answer hits all of us. There’s nothing. We can do nothing.

Chelsea lets out a breath. “We could be supportive?”

“No,” Devon says, shaking his head.

“Dev,” she chides. “He’s our dad. Don’t we want him to be happy?”

“But what about the dog idea?” I offer.

She shakes her head at me. “If this is what Dad wants …”

“Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves?” Devon says. “This could just be dating. Or maybe … you know … otherstuff.”

---