Page 6 of Off the Beaten Path

Tonight, the sweet, spicy scent of bourbon perfumes the air. Logs crackle in the fireplace and cast warm, golden shadows on the forest green walls. A brand-new copy of my favorite author’s latest mystery novel sits in my lap. I take a sip of my old-fashioned, savoring the layers of citrus and sweetness before cracking open the spine of my book.

Just as I start the first page, my phone vibrates on the dark wooden side table next to me. The screen lights up with an incoming message on a now familiar app. Laying my book face down on my outstretched legs, I reach for my phone and swipe it open.

LikeStrawberryWine:Hello, my love. How was your day?

user6872:I told you to stop calling me that.

LikeStrawberryWine:Yes, but I like to imagine a vein popping in your forehead every time I do.

user6872:Stop imagining me.

LikeStrawberryWine:But in my imaginings you’re so dreamy. Like Frodo Baggins. Or Phil from Hercules.

user6872:That’s what does it for you?

LikeStrawberryWine:I have very specific tastes.

user6872:I have bad news. Unfortunately, I am exactly your type.

LikeStrawberryWine:Do you have a hunchback??

user6872:And disfigured toes.

LikeStrawberryWine:Oh gosh. I’m a goner.

LikeStrawberryWine:Did you do anything fun today?

user6872:No.

LikeStrawberryWine:Ah, so just like every day. Well, I did something fun, thank you for asking.

user6872:I didn’t ask.

LikeStrawberryWine:I see we’re still getting the hang of this friend thing.

Despite my best efforts, a faint smile curves my lips, like it often does during my conversations with the perky stranger. I’m still not sure how we started talking every night in these quiet moments I used to reserve for myself, but I can’t deny that I’ve come to look forward to it. A couple of weeks ago, she got sick and didn’t message for three days, and I felt just as fevered and foggy.

It’s probably a sign that I should nip this in the bud, but it feels nice to have something of my own for the first time in God knows how long. I’ve been splitting myself into pieces for ages, giving so much to June and my family and my job that I’ve felt like a shell of who I used to be.

But here, with this anonymous stranger, I almost feel like I’m putting myself back together.

I glance at my whiskey glass, assessing how much I’ve drunk to end up in such a sappy mental state.

user6872:Right, sorry. How was your day?

LikeStrawberryWine:You’re going soft on me.

user6872:I don’t usually have that issue.

I send it before I can think better of it, smiling down at my phone as I wait for her response. She doesn’t disappoint.

LikeStrawberryWine:Did YOU just make a sex joke? I’m so proud. I knew this day would come.

user6872:You can write it down in my baby book.

LikeStrawberryWine:If you think I haven’t already, you don’t even know me.

LikeStrawberryWine:To answer your question, I had a pretty great day. Well, the beginning was good. The ending has been okay.

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