Page 34 of Strung Along

I still don’t know who she is or what she looks like outside of that singular photo, and as much as I hate to admit it, that’s starting to frustrate me too. I’d have to be delusional to deny that I want to meet her in real life.

Would we get along just as well as we do now? Does she listen to my music, and would she admit that to me in person? Would her knowing who I am change anything between us?

Shaking my head, I turn off my truck and open our long thread of messages before typing a reply.

Me: Sorry. It’s just family drama.

The parking lot of the grocery store is nearly empty, and I’d bet the only other cars here belong to the employees. I linger in the truck, delaying having to step out into the snow. The heat starts to dissipate the longer I sit here, though, the chill from outside starting to seep in by the time my phone buzzes.

Banana: Oh, I know all about that. How about you tell me something and I’ll do the same?

Me: Alright. My grandparents resent me for choices I made a few years ago. They’ve never forgiven me.

My lack of hesitation should be alarming but isn’t.

Me: Your turn.

Banana: My father tried to sabotage my sister’s relationship with her now husband because he’s a self-serving bastard. None of us speak to him anymore.

I suck in a breath.

Me: I’m sorry.

Banana: I’m sorry too.

Me: Do you miss him?

Three dots appear for longer than usual as she types but never sends a message. I’m prepared to take my question back when she replies.

Banana: He’s my father. I think a part of me will always miss him, but I won’t ever forget what he’s done. For that reason, I’m going to continue living my life without him having a place in it.

Banana: Do you miss your grandfather?

Me: I haven’t lost him. How can I miss him?

Banana: You don’t have to lose someone to miss them. Not physically.

I reread the message over and over again, trying to understand how she can be so aware of my feelings. My chest tightens as I shift gears and focus on her admission to me.

Me: Your father doesn’t deserve you. Your bravery is admirable.

Banana: Thank you. So is yours. I couldn’t spend every day with someone who held resentment toward me.

Me: I’ve worked on a lot of trucks because of it. Turns out I didn’t forget anything while I was away.

Banana: Will you ever tell me where you went?

I type out a message before quickly deleting it. Will I ever tell her? I want to, but not like this. The way we’re speaking now. If I decided to tell her who I am, it wouldn’t be when I don’t know who she is.

Me: Will you ever meet me in person?

Banana: Is that something you want?

Me: I think so.

Banana: Let’s start with a phone call and go from there.

My stomach bottoms out. The chill from outside suddenly doesn’t register as my skin heats on its own.