Whispering With You

17. It's as simple and complicated as that.

Kelly

I awake with a start, a loud object falling to the floor with a thud. The offending noise that woke me continues to disrupt the silence. Lexi pops her head up from her perch at the end of the bed and we simultaneously peek over the side of the bed together. My phone sits face up, the alarm screeching at us.

Snatching the phone off the floor, I silence the alarm and fall back onto the bed with a groan. Apparently, I fell asleep with my phone on my chest.

A quick glance at the screen tells me I have no new notifications, and I thumb open my text conversation with Sutton. All it takes is a few swipes up in the thread to be reminded of my complete inability to chill last night.

I knew something was off with Sutton, but she was ignoring me. Although I knew I was acting over the top, I couldn't stop. I knew I had no chill. I was aware that I was being unreasonable. That I was creeping way over the line of whatever we're pretending this relationship is. Or is not. It's getting hard to remember these days. To remember why we're pretending. Why it matters. What we're doing.

All I could focus on last night was that I didn't like the feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing Sutton was sad.

It's as simple and complicated as that.

My thumbs stall over the keyboard, mentally typing and deleting a million different morning greeting drafts. I don't want to sound too needy or clingy or like I'm hovering. I have to remind myself she isn't really mine. But I'm starting to believe that less and less.

I'm pretty sure she is mine; I just need to go get her.

It's as simple and complicated as that.

I throw my phone on the bed next to me, giving up on coming up with the perfect text. I decide to let it marinade, instead opting for a shower. After I shower and I still haven't come up with any great greeting ideas, I retreat to the kitchen for coffee and toast. Partway through the partially burnt jelly toast, I set my phone down on the counter, my head soon following with a heavy clunk in the otherwise quiet room.

"What the fuck is my problem?" My voice is garbled with my mouth pressed against the counter.

Lexi rounds the island, nudging my hand with her cold, wet nose. After petting her head a few times, I retrieve my phone and quickly tap out a text before I can overthink it. Then I offer my dog the remnants of my breakfast and take my plate to the dishwasher.

ME: Morning, baby girl.

That's it. That's all I can come up with. Plain and simple. Not too needy or clingy or obviously hovering. Right?

Sutton doesn't answer until I'm halfway across town on my way to my new house. Once I pull into the driveway, I look at my phone.

SUTTON: Morning, Kell.
SUTTON: Before you ask because we both know you want to, I'm fine. I promise you. I'm fine.
SUTTON: You don't need to check up on me all day or come up with an excuse to come see me.
SUTTON: I'm fine. People get sad sometimes. It happens every minute of every day all around the world.
SUTTON: Thank you, though. It's sweet you care. But go back to pretending you don't and call me a brat. I'm Sutton. You're Kelly. We're mean to each other.

I laugh as I read her series of messages. She texts just like she talks.

Sticking my phone in my front pocket, I head into the house, pausing to take in the progress. The floors have been installed and the cabinets in the kitchen are halfway finished. It's been a slow job with me mostly tackling the jobs on my own when at all possible, but I'm not feeling especially rushed to finish this particular project.

Since I'm not interested in digesting why exactly that is, I busy myself with opening the windows to air out the lingering paint smell. Then I procrastinate some more by digging my phone out of my pocket to reread Sutton's text vomit.

ME: Fine. I'll make sure to be meaner from now on. Wouldn't want to upset the equilibrium and all that.

I get busy with work and hours pass before I check my phone again. No new messages. It's lunch time the next chance I get to look at my phone. Nothing.

I decide to grab lunch at home, but when I drive past our favorite Japanese food truck that only passes through every few weeks, I turn around and head back to it. After snapping a picture of the food truck, I send it to Sutton.