jumble

Vibrating phone in my backpack. "Please don't let it be my mom, please don't let it be my mom." We'd already had an unpleasant phone call about how unappreciative and my inadequacies, all covered by 7:45am. But it's 8:34am now, and it's not my mother ringing in. I sneakily and guiltily pull the phone to my ear. The office is dead, like usual.

"Hello..." I say hastily.
"Hey, were you asleep?"
"No, I'm at work."
"Oh... I'm calling because I wanted to let you know you were right."
"Huh...?"
"I finally realized it, but you are so right about it all. I may have an entire family that hates me, but I'm so glad I know."

I've been thinking about him lately. Just when he appears in photos or recently sent text messages or Hillery sees him at Pita Pit.

"What are you talking about?"
"I just wanted to let you know you were right about the whole 15 year old situation."

He called me quite a few Saturdays back telling me he had no plans, and asked me what I was doing. I was dating someone at the time, but I love and miss this kid and like usual I made a spot for him so I invited him to a family ward activity. Following square dancing and potluck food, he explained a saga that had taken new direction since the summer as I loaded my car with laundry. It had become a situation entangled in religion, inspiration, and trust. He told me the story as we sat on opposite ends of my kitchen table. I listened to him, but all the while tension formed as I felt he had been manipulated and brain-washed. My heart was beating, my jaw dropping, as I tried to think over this very complicated issue, rooted in an idea backed by people he loves and respects who had advised him quite differently than I had or would. I sat the whole time tense as I waited for a moment to explain. Honking repeatedly, a car indicated its desire to exit the one-way driveway to my parking lot. He ran down the stairs to move his car, me following as the conversation was cut to a mere 30 seconds. With little closure and an anxious driver ready to exit, he shouted, "trust me," and jumped into his car.

I didn't speak with him for over a month, by that point I had gone through a breakup unbeknownst to him. He didn't pick up the phone. I missed his phone call. He texted me about his visits to someone in his church. He invited me to his concert. I had a bridal shower. He invited me to a movie. I invited him to a concert. I missed his phone call. I haven't seen him for over nearly two months. He calls me at 8:34am on a Monday morning.

"You were so right." It echoes in my head. "I feel like I've been a bad friend. And I miss seeing you."

It's about this time last year where we shared a pashmina to keep our teeth from chattering on a picnic bench in the dark canyon. We spoke of long-distance lovers, London, and perception with Barnes & Noble hot chocolate and pumpkin cheesecake in our stomachs. Shivering as we realized we had nothing figured out. What good is being right when you're still lonely?