PHONE SWAP | drew starkey

23: A CASE OF THE BUTTERFLIES

'I swear to god, if you decline ANOTHER call, I will—'

'Hi, Marianne, my best friend, I've missed you lots too. Penny for your thoughts?'

'You ignored seven of my calls.'

'I was out with the family and I wanted to take a bit of a break from my phone. You know, breaking bad habits and all.'

'Now you're stealing my lines, too?'

'No, feel free to keep that one, actually. ... What's up? Everything good?'

'Don't sound so concerned. ... Sorry, I didn't mean that sarcastically and it came out— Anyway, I've been here for nearly a week now and I'm starting to think it actually was the right decision.'

'I thought we already figured that one out?'

'Yeah, but... It's THE right decision. It's what Tom and I needed. You know, a bit of family stress, a bit of new stuff, all of that. I think it brought out what we care about the most.'

'Oh, that's great! Seriously. What happened?'

'I don't even know, that's the weirdest thing! It wasn't like a big deal or anything. Wait, I feel a bit weird talking like this, and I know you're having a lovely time with your family as well and I want to hear all about it but I'm currently realising that the past few months of struggling with my relationship are over and I'm a little bit over the mo—'

'Breathe, Marianne. We've got all the time in the world.'

'Right. Make sure you're decent, because we're switching to FaceTime.'

  The screen flickers and Addie sees herself staring back, with a little notification popping up waiting to be confirmed. Addie hesitates for a brief moment – she sees herself, in her childhood bedroom, one that's hardly changed since she was seventeen. There's still popsters of indie rock bands she used to like plastered on the wall behind her, and the single bed still covered in the same heart-patterned covers she's had since she upgraded from a kid bed to a proper-sized one. Sun is peeking through the window over her desk, reflecting off the thin sheet of snow covering the grass outside. So many memories and forgotten days are written on the walls Addie can no longer read.

  'You waiting till I die and get buried, or what?'

  Addie presses the confirm button, apologising for keeping her waiting.

  Marianne, as is customary, looks nothing short of cute – with her ginger hair in two little loose braids ('I look like Heidi when I wear my hair like this,' Marianne once said, and just about flipped upon learning Addie had never heard of the girl let alone the book) and one of those smiles that makes her dimples pop and her eyes shine.

  'Christ,' says Addie, 'you really are happy.'

  Lounging on what seems to be a couch in the middle of a rustic living room, Marianne squeals, then immediately covers her face with the hand not holding the phone. 'I feel like I'm being judged right now.'

  'Maybe a little bit.'

  'I know you'll thihnk I'm exaggerating—'

'Let me make my own opinion before you put words into my mouth.'

  Marianne peeks between her fingers. 'Wow. That was very harsh.'

  'Sorry, I'm tired,' Addie admits with a sigh. 'I've had some Zoom calls with people from work that fucked me right off. I'm listening, I promise, and I'm not going to treat you like you're Raiden on an annoying day.'