My parents are hammering out a separation agreement in the kitchen.
I’m on the couch, staring at an old movie on Netflix, listening to them bicker over things like who has the bigger car payment and who should pay how much for groceries. Neither of them has said a word to me since I got home from school. They’re locked in a bubble of their own making.
I wish I could be locked in the bubble of my bedroom, but I can’t stand the thought of not knowing what they’re trading away.
When they’re done, I’ll be just another line item.
I can’t do this. I can’t be here.
I whistle and grab the leash.
The rain has slowed to a trickle. It’s become habit to head toward the church, and Texy makes the turn at the end of my street automatically.
I’m secretly hoping Rev will be there, waiting for me.
Yeah, whatever. We have no plans to meet, and after the way I snapped at him in the car, I can’t imagine him waiting around for more.
But I’m still hoping.
I ate lunch in the library, hunched over a computer. Avoiding Cait. Avoiding Rev. Avoiding life. I wanted to skip another class, but without a car, I didn’t know how to get off the school grounds quickly enough, and I really had no desire to walk in the rain.
Instead, I logged in to Battle Realms and played with Ethan. There’s a pretty clear sticker at the top of every monitor that says NO GAMING DURING SCHOOL HOURS, but there’s also a pretty clear part of my brain that ignores it.
The church benches are empty. The grassy stretch beside the building is empty.
Of course. No rom-com meet up tonight.
I let Texy do her thing, then whistle. She comes right to me, erasing any remaining hope that Rev is sitting somewhere with nuggets, just out of view.
I’m pathetic.
You have a nice reassuring Bible quote about divorce?
I should never have snapped at him like that. I wonder if Mom would like it if I told her I inherited her tendency to make snippy comments instead of her commitment to medicine.
Maybe I should walk to his house and apologize.
Before I know it, I’m doing exactly that. It’s easy enough to find the house again. Lights shine in each window, beacons through the steamy drizzle. His parents seemed kind.
As soon as the thought enters my head, I know I’m not going to knock on his door. I can’t be around a normal family. Not right now. Not with the mess waiting for me at home. It’s the same reason I can’t go to Cait’s.
My phone chimes.
Ethan.
Ethan: How’s it going tonight? I looked for you online.
Maybe this is a sign.
I turn away from Rev’s house and head back toward the church, texting as I walk.
Emma: I’m walking the dog because they’re hammering out a separation agreement.
Ethan: Not going well?
Emma: When I left they were screaming over who contributed what to the down payment on the house. Guess.
Ethan: Ouch.
Emma: Tell me about it.
Ethan: Is it a pain to have to walk the dog every night?
Emma: No, I don’t mind it. Mom says it’s the only way she can get me away from a computer, but it’s quiet. And I have a phone.
Ethan: What’s your dog’s name?
Emma: Texas.
Ethan: Send me a picture.
I hold up the phone and click my tongue. Texas looks up at me over her shoulder, ears lopsided. I press the button to capture the image, then send it to him.
Ethan: She’s pretty.
Emma: Thanks. She’s a good dog.
Ethan: I wish I had a dog. I think it would help to have someone on my side.
Emma: She’s good for that.
I bite at my lip, then add another line.
Emma: Are you lonely?
Ethan: What do you think?
I stare at his message. Before I can come up with a response, he adds another line.
Ethan: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a dick.
Emma: It’s OK. You weren’t.
He doesn’t write back.
Great. Now I’ve ruined another friendship, without even trying.
But then a long message appears.
Ethan: Yes. I’m lonely. I spent a year locked in my bedroom. I’m online all night. The only people I really talk to are all in-game. During the day, everyone ignores me. It’s not their fault—I ignore them back. But it doesn’t exactly help you climb to the top of the social ladder.
I don’t know what to say. There’s something terribly sad about his experience.
I wonder if I should thank my mother for forcing me to get out of the house every day.
Ethan: I’m sorry. Overshare.
Emma: No, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?
Ethan: Lend me your dog?
Then he sends the smiling emoji with the sunglasses.
Emma: Ha-ha, anytime.
Ethan: I’ll hold you to that.
Then he sends another smiling emoji.
Ethan: I don’t suppose you’d send me a picture of you.
Emma: Why?
Ethan: I’m just curious. I keep seeing you as Azure M and I know that’s not accurate.
Emma: I keep seeing you as the guy in OtherLANDS.
There’s a long pause, and then a picture comes through.
It’s grainy and dark, but it’s him. IT’S HIM. He’s got short blond hair. Light eyes. A narrow face and broad shoulders. The light from his computer reflects off his face, making him look washed out, but I can tell he’s got a nice smile. Shy, but nice. Soft cheeks.
And thank god he’s fully clothed. Well, his upper body is fully clothed. That’s all I can see. He could be naked from the waist down, for all I know.
WHY IS MY BRAIN SUPPLYING THOUGHTS LIKE THIS?
He’s got a hand up, exactly the wave pose that he uses in the game. It makes me grin.
Another line of text appears immediately.
Ethan: I can’t believe I sent you that. I think I’m going to have a heart attack.
My heart softens.
Emma: Don’t die until I can return the favor. Here. Hold on.
I hold the phone out in front of me and try to take a picture.
Okay, I take seven. The flash washes me out in each one, so I finally choose one that doesn’t look too silly, and I send that.
Ethan: You really do look like Azure M.
Emma: No, I do not.
Ethan: You do.
Emma: Azure M does not have glasses.
Ethan: Maybe this is your secret identity.
That makes me smile.
Emma: You kind of look like Ethan.
Ethan: Good thing. I am Ethan.
Emma: You know what I mean.
Ethan: I do.
Emma: It’s nice to meet you, Ethan.
Ethan: It’s nice to meet you, Emma.
Emma: I’m glad you texted me. I really needed a distraction.
Ethan: I’m glad I texted you, too.
Emma: I can go home and get on OtherLANDS if you want to play.
Ethan: I’d like that.
Emma: See you in ten.
I cluck my tongue to Texy. “Come on, Tex.”
She pulls toward the church, toward Rev’s, toward everything I don’t want to think about.
I pull her in the opposite direction and we head toward home.