Now open your eyes

Even if I could get out of bed, Diane was bringing me back soup. As much as I wanted to be with Ollie, I needed to see where this would go with Diane and me. Perhaps this was part of me finding myself again, believing I could right my wrongs.

Me: I don’t want to.

Little bubbles appeared, disappeared, and appeared again at the bottom of the feed, then the phone rang in my palm, Ollie’s name jumping across the screen.

I answered, and Ollie rushed out and said, “I don’t like text anymore.”

“Diane’s bringing me back soup,” I explained. “This is huge, Ollie. I think she’s coming around.”

“The ice queen is defrosting? That’s good, love. I want this for you.”

I forced my feet over the bed and onto the floor, then walked toward the bathroom to find medicine. “Yeah, it’s weird. I guess we’ll see how it goes.”

“You sound terrible.”

My eyes landed on a bottle of Tylenol, and I snatched it. “I feel worse.”

His heavy sigh vibrated through the phone. “I hate this. I hate that you’re sick and there’s nothing I can do,”—his car engine roared— “Each time I drive away from you, it feels so wrong.”

“Where are you?”

“Sitting outside the house in the car. Had to turn on the heat.”

“I’ve been taking pictures.”

“You have?” I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah, I missed it. Thank you for leaving me my camera,” I said, then popped a few pills and ran my mouth under the water from the sink to wash them down.

“You need more film?”

Shaking my head, I said, “I have a roll left.”

“I’ll get you more today. I need something to do.”

“This is weird.”

“What is?”

“Talking to you through a phone,” I rolled back into bed and pulled the sheets up over my shoulders, “we’ve never done this before.”

“I don’t like it, but I’ll take what I can get.” Then he paused, and a drawn-out pause played out between us. “Have you found what you’re looking for?”

“Not yet.”

“You don’t have to look alone, love …”