Nicky: How were the waffles?
Kyra: They were, as Shelby promised, the most kickass waffles of all time. Thanks for supplying the milk.
Nicky: Happy to help. And now more importantly, how are you?
Kyra: Also kickass.
Nicky: Glad to hear it. I’m sorry again that I jumped to conclusions—and then jumped on you. I was taken by surprise, in that we didn’t know press was there until I was already on my way off the plane. There was some kind of communication mix-up. And I felt horrible about you having to cope with all of that on your own.
Kyra: I survived. And they’ll probably go away soon, right? When they don’t see us together again right away and they figure out that I lead a painfully boring life.
Nicky: Maybe, but I’ve learned not to expect the media to do the expected. So be vigilant. If you need help—if they trespass or harass you—get the police involved. I can’t do anything from here, which is even more maddening.
Kyra: Please don’t worry. I really can take care of myself.
Nicky: I know you can. But maybe I’d like to be close by to help so you didn’t have to deal with it all the time.
Kyra: I’d like that, too.
Nicky: I just saw a picture of you. You’re beautiful.
Kyra: UGH, Nicky, I so am not, and any picture they took probably made me look like a doofus.
Nicky: There’s that word again. You are not, nor do you look like, a doofus. You were in jeans and your boots. Looked like you were heading into the garden. How’s it going, by the way? Your project at the garden, I mean.
Kyra: I was on my way in there when they started snapping. They’ve begun following me to the garden, but today, campus security came by and routed them out. And everything is moving along as we’d predicted. We’re hitting some pest issues with the natural gardening, but Ed and I both think it’s a short-term problem that should begin to respond to the co-planting soon.
Nicky: Excellent. I might have to invite you to one of our food sourcing symposiums. That would be one way to get you over to London.
Kyra: True. Another would be to simply invite me.
Nicky: If I knew I could actually spend time with you, I’d ask you over here in a second. But my schedule is so full right now that I’d barely see you between coming and going. But soon.
Kyra: I’m not complaining or hinting, Nicky. I was just saying that you don’t have to come up with some elaborate reason to get me to England.
Nicky: Good to know. I could just think of a good way to ask, huh? Dear Ky, my lips miss yours. Bring them on over.
Kyra: That would do the trick.
Kyra: I had to call the campus police today. A woman came into one of my classes and sat in the back, and during the break, she came up and began asking me questions. And not about soil science, either.
Nicky: I’m sorry, Ky. Did they eject her?
Kyra: They didn’t get the chance. She left before they got there. But it was embarrassing. People at school . . . they’ve started treating me differently. They don’t always talk TO me, but they seem to think I’ve suddenly gone deaf, because they sure as hell talk ABOUT me.
Nicky: People are . . . incredibly thoughtless sometimes. But your true friends know you. They’ll stick.
Kyra: Yeah, I guess. Shelby’s the only one I trust right now. She fends off the reporters if they start getting pushy. And she doesn’t ask me stupid questions, either. Shelby and my project partner Ed are the only two who still look at me the same way. With Ed, I think he honestly hasn’t noticed anything weird going on. He’s just really focused on the science.
Nicky: Is there anything I can do?
Kyra: Come over and hold me and stroke my hair and tell me it’s going to be all right?
Nicky: I’m virtually stroking your hair right now. And it’s going to be all right.
Kyra: I’m sorry about this, Nicky, but I’m going to have to say that you’re wrong. That’s all there is to it.
Nicky: I’m absolutely not wrong, Ky. Don’t you think I know better than you do about this?
Kyra: Uh, no I don’t in fact. Did you have a second major in Shakespeare? I did. I know that shit inside and out.
Nicky: Maybe so, but he wrote plays about my ancestors. That should give me more standing.
Kyra: Well, it doesn’t. I’m telling you, Juliet wasn’t nearly as in love with Romeo as he was with her. She went along with it because he was so dramatic and insistent, and she thought he was an okay guy, but she wasn’t gaga over him like he was over her.
Nicky: She killed herself for him, Ky. Twice, if you count the fake death.
Kyra: Yeah, well, she was a teenaged girl and she got caught up in the drama. But she didn’t do it because she was crazy in love with him.
Nicky: Are you making a point here, Ky? Are you trying to say that you’re just going along with me because I’m—wait, let me scroll up—oh here it is. Dramatic and insistent.
Kyra: No, of course not. I’m going along with you because I’m hot for your bod. Duh.
Nicky: …
Kyra: You still there? Sorry, I didn’t mean to shock you.
Nicky: You didn’t shock me, but you definitely made me very happy. Okay, I’m glad to know it’s more than drama. Also, I’m hot for your bod, too.
Kyra: I’d suggest phone-making-out, but I know one of your relatives got caught doing that a while back, and it was a big thing, so I think it’s better that we refrain.
Nicky: Sadly true on all counts. We’ll have to wait for in person making out.
Kyra: You could always write me letters. Like I suggested before, ten years ago. And you never did.
Nicky: I feel the same way now. I’m not a good letter-writer.
Kyra: Yet you can text me the equivalent of an epic novel? How is that different?
Nicky: It is because it is. And because you’re texting me back, giving me immediate gratification.
Kyra: You’re all about the gratification, are you?
Nicky: You know it, baby.
Kyra: Nicky, does your family hate me? When they see all the pictures, I mean?
Nicky: Of course, they don’t. This isn’t anything new to us, Ky. It’s a way of life.
Kyra: Right, I get that, but I mean, do they see pics and say, Nicky, she’s a dog. Find another girl.
Nicky: Uh, no. No one has said anything remotely like that. Alex said she remembers you well and that you’ve grown up to be even prettier than you were last time she saw you, and Daisy says she remembers that you were always very kind to her when we’d visit. So that’s a winning situation.
Kyra: And your parents . . .?
Nicky: Rarely if ever express an opinion when it comes to my love life. They trust me to make the right decisions.
Kyra: Okay.
Nicky: Okay?
Kyra: I said yes. I just wish . . . I wish a lot of things. I wish I didn’t take such terrible awkward pictures. I wish they wouldn’t take pictures of me when I’m doing things like bending over to get something out of the car. And mostly, I wish we didn’t have to be so far apart from each other.
Nicky: I wish that last one, too. Soon, Ky. I promise.