Page 96 of The Plus Ones
Keaton
Text messaging is an interesting way to connect with a person. I can remember a time in my life—about four days ago—when I would always smile while writing and reading text messages to and from one Miss Roxanne Carter. I’d send her a message. She’d respond by writing a message back to me. Sometimes, if I was lucky, she’d respond by sending a picture instead of a string of snappy words. It was fun. It was even a little bit thrilling. It was one of the many different ways we connected with each other. It wasn’t my favorite, but it was in the top ten for sure.
Now all of a sudden, it’s the only way she’ll communicate with me.
I call her, it goes to voice mail. I FaceTime her, she doesn’t accept the call. She always responds with a text saying she’s so sorry she missed my call. What was I calling about?
Well, I was hoping I could actually speak to her on the phone to tell her what I was calling about, because I was calling about wanting to talk to her and hear her voice. Being able to see her at the same time would be an added bonus and something that is technologically possible in these exciting times that we now live in—so why not? Especially when we’re in different cities. Especially because we’re dating. Especially because we both supposedly miss each other.
Roxy fucking Carter has found a whole new way to drive me crazy, and she’s doing it in the last way I ever would have imagined possible—bynottalking back to me.
How did we go from spending every night together and staying in touch all day long to only texting back and forth a few times a day—for more than three days?
I called Chase to ask if he’d seen or talked to her. “No, but Aimee and Finn were at her place a few days ago before dinner.”
“So she’s okay?”
“Sure. I mean, Aimee didn’t say anything, so I think we can assume she’s okay.”
I told him she wasn’t calling me back, just texting. He said she’s “probably just being Roxy.” Which made a lot of sense when he said it, but I don’t even know what that means anymore. Which Roxy is she being? Did she revert back to the post-wedding Foxy Roxy who can’t deal with how awesome we were together? Or is this how Roxy is when she suddenly decides she doesn’t want to date the awesome guy she’s awesome with? There are a million reasons for not calling a person back, and none of them are good.
I kept looking around when I was at the airport, thinking that maybe this was all leading up to a big surprise—that she’d be there at Arrivals waiting for me, in heels and a chauffeur’s cap, aMr. Bridgessign, and in a trench coat with nothing on underneath. She wasn’t. I feel bad about looking so disappointed when I only saw Manny there to greet me that I’ll probably have to give him another raise.
When I picked up Jackpot at the dog hotel, he was so excited to see me. But when we got to the car and there was no Roxy in the back seat, he looked back at me, sighed, and frowned.You blew it with her, didn’t you?he was thinking.
Did I? Did she see me with Tamara? Is that what this is? Is she the kind of woman who would show up to surprise me at work and then not tell me that she saw me with my ex-girlfriend and then be passive-aggressive about it? I don’t think so, but I’ve been wrong about women once or fifty times before.
I’ve re-read her messages over and over, and they aren’t passive-aggressive or curt or incendiary. They’re just brief and to the point.We’ll talk at Finn’s partyis what she keeps telling me. She just doesn’t want to talk to me until then for some reason. Even now that I’m back at home.
It’s one thing to be shut out of a couples vacation when you’re not part of a couple, but being shut out of being a couple just hurts.
If that’s what this is.
She texted that she’ll be helping Chase and Aimee set up for the party tomorrow morning, so I call Aimee before she goes to bed.
“Keaton?”
“What the hell is going on?”
“Um, what is this regarding?”
“Why won’t she talk to me?”
“Oh…” I can hear her exhale for five terrible seconds before continuing. “She’s fine. You’re fine. I wish I could say something to calm you down, but I can’t be the one who explains it to you. I’m sorry.”
“There’s an ‘it’?”
“Things. I can’t be the one who explains things to you. You’re coming to the party, right? Everyone’s gonna be here. After naptime. Two-ish?”
“I’ll be there after my nap. Will she?”
“Of course she will. Just hang in there. You guys just need to talk in person. I gotta go, but it’ll be fine.”
Maybe I really am overreacting.
I dig up my old notebook from college, the one with all the untranslatable words in it, and flip through looking for something that describes all these new anxious feelings I’m having.
Nope.
