Chapter 15 - Trip the Light

"Are you hurt, hon?"

Hurt? Me? I was the only one left alone in all this. Taking a breath I very much needed, I used the most stable-looking section of the nearest table to find my feet again.

"I'm okay", I told her, with just a quick glance up, and then a scan across the group.

The twin closest to me returned my look and gently cocked her head before asking, "You wanna...wanna join in? We just started Dark Legends of Camelot. It's super quick. We're playing without the Cutthroat. It's really easy!" Her voice was light and airy with the stumbles of youth and the presence of adolescence, as though, while the rest of her body may have been transformed, it was still figuring out its place. She could easily be half my age or more, like one of my students. I told her that I needed to give someone a ride after work and I was just, "looking". She rocked her head and folded her arms as her sibling gave her a firm nudge.

I brushed at my skirt and used a sturdy stride to assure the lingering owner that I wasn't going to take another tumble.

But he wasn't even looking my way. She. He was gone. It was she now. Same with all the rest. Well, I couldn't tap a hand over their crotches to be absolutely certain, but I could easily assume. And I didn't want to dwell on it. They changed. All nine of them. Nine girls who used to be guys. Nine times a feeling I dreamed over with a mixture of shivery shame and intense, mind-melting heat. Way too much for me to deal with right then. Each of them had distinct aromas ranging from a subtle touch of plain vanilla to a nose-diving into potpourri. Not that a note of summer seasoned warm swamp ass hadn't lingered. But the impression was more of a funky salon.

And that was too much for the stump. Too much history. Too many sensations to process. Too much happening. Not a Target bathroom situation but an intimate, dangerous metronome counting out the time till I embarrassed myself again. My skirt felt woefully weak, like trying to hold back the noonday sun with just a thin curtain. Even turning to make it look like I was curious about the computers and games to my left made me feel achingly self-conscious. I had to get out of here.

"What... are you doing?" It was the one with the sunglasses. Not them again. He had a trucker rasp and she hadn't improved much, acquiring a ditzy, cigarette-burned crackle that sucked all the welcome out of the room. I hesitated with the ambiguity that they may not be addressing me, but the trace of their eyes beneath those orange monstrosities left no doubt.

"What do you mean? Just looking." That was all I ventured to speak. My collar, despite the loose fit of my blouse, gathered all the moisture from the air and my body to drench my sensitive places with clammy uncertainty.

"A little more than looking. You got a swimming chub in those seas." Her word choice shot through me like being blasted by an electrical current. I knew what she meant.

And I was horrified. Like the worst moments of junior high when I was just a little island before a storm of hormones, trying to keep from being washed away by the wills of others. Quarantined from the walls of men and the knots of women. Judged by a mother I would never please as a surrogate she wanted to fashion. I had no words, only terror and a prayer to erase this moment from my life and the eyes of others. Why are the roots of a man sunk so deep into me when I don't fucking want them? No matter how I change, I can't escape.

I had no illusions that the shimmer or the universe or the operating system of reality or God or whatever, was listening to my plea to dig out the stump. I had to wield what there was. And that was the pressure-formed stone beneath the surface, blackened and burnt by mom. Not a shield she made for me, but the scars I kept for myself. I could fight, if I had to. At least, I could imagine raising up my words like fists.

"Why are you looking at me? I'm not here looking at you." It was a whiff at the air which even a novice could dodge.

I couldn't even attempt to read every face around me, nor would I want to, but I could feel them scrutinizing me. Worse case? They throw me out for being hard. What does it matter? I was ready to throw in the towel on this place the other day because the prices sucked, the customers were aloof, and I was uncertain. Despite everyone in the room changing sex, that didn't mean I suddenly liked it.

"Typical! Typical dude. You probably spout all sorts of shit about being an ally, a total feminist, all that crap, but the minute we let you into the garden, it's like a dog doing what a dog does. Thinking about one thing. Girls are more than one thing, buddy. Just because you wear our clothes does not make you like us."

I could shoulder the brunt of that, but those last words hurt.

Before I could process them further, my phone sprung to life with trills and beeps. I wanted to answer it, but I also wanted to defend some sense of myself even though I was caught like this. Like attempting to save my place in an online game in the middle of an event. “Excuse me, please. Sorry…”

My cell did nothing to hide the heat of my embarrassment despite the cool screen nor stem the trembles of my eyes. The adventure continued without me though.

“Amber! You dumb bitch. You stare at meat whistles all the time. You better watch your rolls or I’m gonna crush your ass”, the voice next to her said. She used to be the guy with a crewcut, but now she sounded like someone I might’ve known in high school. And she had the presence of a no-nonsense nurse. I could feel her eyes flick to me as I fumbled for the right spot on my phone. Not a look of anger or sharpened judgment, not even one of pity. But the kind of look that I could tell wouldn’t recede or dive behind her features, if I looked back.

Calliope sent me a text message saying, “Where are you?” Only with an extra R in the middle and a frowning emoji. I quickly and carefully wrote her back, “I’m at the game store next door.”

My legs felt like they wanted to melt and explode into tingles. Simply facing the computers and gaming materials on the wall did not provide enough protection from the chaos behind me. I didn’t want to be the center of attention like this.

I used to be in a select program for medical careers in high school and I embarrassed myself, more than once, in so many ways that stayed with me. It was basically ninety percent girls, aside from a gay guy and whatever the hell I was. I nearly passed out attempting to correctly demonstrate the Heimlich on a cute classmate, because the view made it feel like I became her.

And I took a painful tumble across a series of chairs because my mind was distracted by the way someone wore their scrubs. And I willingly subjected my veins to dozens of painful blood draw probes as recompense. At the time, it could easily be waved away as juvenile hormones. But even the most prudish man wouldn’t feel such crippling shame over the sympathy and attempted comfort of others. I was special, I was different, I was apart from them. I just wanted to be normal in the private, horrifying way I felt beneath, not in the way my body presented on the surface.

It wouldn’t fucking matter to cry in this shop, even though I felt like I earned at least a moment of it.

“Omigawsh. Sorry about that. You okay there?” A new voice. Despite the Valley accent, she didn’t sound stuck in the brambles of her voice. It was high-pitched as heck while still retaining a nasal, geeky aspect.

The cause of this struggle, the tyrant and the victim, the spawning fish, had slipped back behind the meager shield of my water-toned skirt. Still, I made a frail, hesitant turn towards the group and the table. Sunglasses, or Amber, had taken her chair, folded her arms, and been put in or imposed her own time-out from the rest of the group.

"Don't worry about it", was my swift response. The new voice, with a frown of concern, belonged to the broccoli-hair-puff guy turned weird pasta brass-hair girl. Her tilted expression of concern urged me to recant even harder. I wore intangible masks beneath my raw sensations for reasons: To protect me and protect others. Every time I let loose the kind of person I was underneath, it did damage. My idle thoughts rent the world like a tempest. I was alone at the start of all this and not even the excuses of a world full of them could explain that away. If I was careful, then I wasn't me and, if I wasn't careful, then no one wanted me.

The owner wore the kind of scolding expression I needed to learn better if I ever wanted control over a real classroom as she shook her head at Amber and responded, "I'm sorry too. Everyone is welcome here. Sometimes our bodies get away from our minds. And our mouths get ahead of our good sense. We can work through it and help each other out."

The blond girl furthest from me dug into a duffle bag and pulled out a large, very fuzzy pink towel from around a set of gym clothes. "Feel free to use this. There's a bathroom in the back too, if you need a moment." It surprised me that her voice had more weight and her demeanor more boyishness than when she was a pretty boy before. Still, she had a firm sense of a girl.

I shivered, despite hesitantly accepting the towel to wrap around myself, with the assurance she would get it back soon. Internally, I swore not to mess it up. I didn't need the bathroom, but I could've used it as a moment to catch my breath. They couldn't understand what I was feeling, fleshed out with shock and uncertainty. It was too confusing. I hated and loved this moment, because I watched nine guys unmade and remade so swiftly, and I wanted it. That's what turned on my every sensation. The hints and fallout so far broadcast live, with me as the only audience

“Like, don’t even mind Amber about nothing. We don’t let her out much. Come sit for a sec, when you get a chance, there’s like this really cool game I just started. Like two minutes, you can play a full game of it. It’s the best!” That was said by the girl in the gray tank top, who seemed really expressive with her arms and didn’t appear to mind how much of her cleavage was showing. She had what I could only describe as an androgynous, beach accent, languid like a surfer but hopped up on natural excitement.

As if there wasn’t enough chaos going on around, the door to the shop opened behind me and Calliope gingerly looked through and asked, “Maggie? Everything okay?” She clung to a purse more like a reconfigured set of bagpipes swaddled under her arm protectively. Her after-work clothes had a touch of gold and black but otherwise looked like a dressy version of something I might wear. A cacophony of exclamations from the girls inside made her suddenly freeze in place. They beckoned her in with cards, dice, and promises. Eyes wide, Calliope crept inside and looked to me for support.

The last girl I hadn’t heard, the one well-adorned in denim, moved in and blocked her escape route. Her voice made me raise an eyebrow, as it didn’t sound like it had changed at all in the process. Some of the inflection shifted, but the weight and pitch of her voice didn’t seem different. If she was in the same range as me, for the most obvious reasons, then why did Amber…? Oh, whatever… It probably wasn’t worth pursuing.

Before Calliope could evade the … possibly-former pretty boy brunette, I explained, “I just wanted to look in here. Excuse me. I’ll be ready in a sec. Restroom.”

Poor Calliope‘s expression widened as her eyes darted between the 'girl' and me. The busty surfer-sounding lady amended that we both were welcome to try the quick game and the same, blonde twin jumped in with her proposal again. With the owner’s help, it was easy to find the restroom.

The wobbly door just brushed past the sink and didn’t clear the toilet tank. That left enough space to barely sidle through. The fixtures looked brand new and still had the smell of a home improvement store. Drywall covered about half of the room with the other half exposed. I sat to pee, with the towel draped across my red hair. The stump settled down, even though I still had enough blood racing through me to fuel the warmth of my face. I slumped down, with my eyes shut, for several minutes after I was done.

I didn’t want to think anything. But especially not anything bad, life-altering, or self-indulgent. Can I even write? Could I even teach? One minute, I may be scolding a student and wishing they didn’t talk as much and perhaps the next they’ve been rewritten to be mute. It terrified me to even think that. If I imagined any of the girls in the game store had a different connection to me, what the Hell would that do to their lives? I could wind up with several H-word possibilities if I let loose the wrong thought. Help…

Although, what sort of ‘help’ might I receive? I envisioned them like this, in a vague sense. I stamped on the thought, like it was caught on fire. Still, it happened. That responsibility… if I could do anything… was fucked up. Don’t think of the worst possible thing. Don’t do something terrible with your stray thoughts. I didn’t want it. So, what do I do?

I certainly couldn’t stay on this toilet all night. All the fear and anxiety would just nestle up inside me, like trying to eat and pass a tumbleweed whole. Keeping my hands under the bracing wave from the cold tap felt numb but better. Paper just came off an industrial-sized roll to one side. I had to be careful when extracting myself from this tiny space.

Outside, I could discern Calliope laughing amidst the group. She sat with several others and laid down a series of colorful cards.

The cards reminded me of the game two others were playing, the one that dated back to high school with Planeswalkers. The old version of me used to sit and watch my friends play it without a single clue of how it worked. I still had no idea.

The details and ornamentation on the cards in front of Calliope reminded me of a calligraphy book but with all the intimate trails of a fantasy epic. She shuffled through a neat pile and set down a burning village, declaring, “Raid! Is that right?”

It took her a moment to notice that I was back. Gleefully, she explained, “Hey, Maggie! I’m a dragon.” Amber had grabbed one of the gaming PCs and wore a pink pair of headphones blocking everything out. I slipped off the towel and held it out. The girl who loaned it to me was busy, so I just left it dangling while making sure my skirt did its job.

No one bothered me but, other than Calliope, no one really noticed me either. That was fine. Better than drawing anger. I wasn’t sure where to stand or sit while I waited though.

“Maggie, you want to join next to Callie?” The girl with the loaded tank top waved me over. I wasn’t sure what to say. I wiggled my mouth a few times before telling her, “I was going to drive… Callie to North Langers.”

“Callie“ swung around with one arm holding the opposite shoulder and said, “Oh! I’m sorry! Are you pressed for time? Elizabeth here said she could drive me home, if I wanna stay another hour till they close here. I didn’t want to keep you that long, since I’m already imposing. Just a few games to unwind and not think about stuff, you know?” She let her expression dip, just a little.

I could stay an hour. I could also head back and text Camille. Or I could do neither. Just get in my car and catch the possibility of a cool breeze slipping through my window as the day faded away. If I stayed, what might happen? Randomly, it occurred to me I could get one of them pregnant without even touching them.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

What did anything mean then? Some random guy in a gaming store turns into a girl and then into a pregnant one. How does their child even exist? What is all this?

Fuck it…

“I could go for a game, if no one minds.” I set the towel aside.

I learned a lot in that hour. I learned there was a prime time to exchange raids for hordes when building up your dragon horde. I also learned that these dragons borrowed parthenogenesis from real-world Komodo dragons, to which I flicked my eyes around the group. Gray swollen tank top was Elizabeth. Elaine and Cynthia were the twins. Ariadne was the owner's name, which she noted was not a nickname but a “long story”. Brass curls called herself Natalie while the brunette and blonde “former” pretty boys had been christened Eloise and Marsha respectively. I met Siana, the first to stand up to Amber regarding the whole “meat whistle” thing, last.

The eight out of nine did so much to make me feel welcome. I received so many random, unearned compliments about my clothes and looks, but I still liked getting them. Natalie lavished her attention on my rusty, frumpy locks with a brush while multitasking slaying her enemies in that Camelot game, and sparing advice for me.

I appreciated the help, I just wasn’t sure about the attention. The little sparks that leapt from my hair also made me nervous that I might give Natalie some sort of accidental, magically-powered baby bump. The things I think about...

I also appreciated the distraction of the game and it was light enough in mechanics that a quick description of moves was all I needed. Casually, Natalie explained that she did a lot of cosplaying and started out changing her hair color every few weeks for roles. But that distressed her hair, so it was wigs all the way after that. Leaning close, she confessed that she considered most girls (and guys) who constantly changed their hair color to be a little “loopy”. This note was accompanied by a glance Amber’s way. But Amber was still deep in some online game.

Marsha, who I was still a little iffy on gender-wise, had clearly met up with Calliope at some point earlier in the day and the topic of a game, now fulfilled, had been brought up. Other details about the girls whizzed past me when I was unprepared to process them. Maybe if I was more astute, or on surer footing, then I would’ve learned something more about them, but I already felt like I was at my social and psychological limit. Just smiling and being polite felt like the best option.

At some point, Siana offered me some warm tea from a thermos, and I gladly accepted. A simple note of mango, not too sweet and not the least bit bitter, flowed over my tongue. Despite the warmth, the tea satiated me better than something ice cold. My words stopped slipping together and a smile returned easier to my face. It was almost enough to make me feel comfortable.

Despite appearing identical, the twins were easy to tell apart. Elaine deferred to Cynthia and had more of a tomboyish presence.

At the same time, despite elaborate card flicks and flourishes of narration for their Camelot game, Cynthia wasn’t above poking her sister and showing off a golden, Groucho Marx eyebrow wiggle.

Elizabeth had some sort of portfolio phone case of the type I’d been pursuing for ages. Magnets held it in place. Unfortunately, it had been randomly acquired at one of the discount stores, like where I got my purse, and never made a reappearance. She dramatized some of the leaps in logic about how dragons were transporting back gold for their horde from raids. And I soon couldn’t look at the fancy fantasy renderings of classical dragons with wide eyes without envisioning them “sharting gold”.

We actually had enough time for three iterations of the game and for Eloise to share the story of how she kicked a television across a room and earned the nickname “Iron Elsa” from her coworkers at the local college admissions office. The explanation of what really happened, which she quietly told later, was rather mundane. I much preferred the mystery.

Amber managed to negotiate a few different conversations, mostly with Ariadne, and was the first to leave the store. Whatever sentiment I might’ve felt against her, it had cooled enough from slowly crawling lava with an obsidian shell, that it was the same as any hardened earth to walk or drive upon. Eloise and Marsha were next, leaving as a pair, but not before Siana casually mentioned that it would be nice to visit the water park down the street. From there, with Calliope‘s help, I basically invited the group.

Most immediately agreed to come, with the twins, Natalie, and Elizabeth joining Siana. The former pretty boys added my contact info, but weren’t sure if they could make it. Everyone added my info and I added them in turn, practically doubling what was in my phone. I let my guard down with a casual smile, before Ariadne mentioned her upcoming obstetrics appointment at the end of the week.

Elizabeth did a quick count and asked for confirmation that Ariadne was at ten weeks, to which she nodded. The quiet haze of tears clogging my eyes wasn’t taken as a bad thing by any of the girls. They barely even noticed. Ariadne already had a four-year-old “adventurous rapscallion” of a daughter, who had a packed summer with her grandparents visiting, but would be beside herself if she missed out on the water park.

I agreed to Ariadne's plan to combine a business and bulk cheaper rate for the group. That was about all my brain could manage. Calliope congratulated me on my last, overall victory as Lord Dragon Supreme. I did my best not to appear dour.

Standing from the wobbly chair felt about the same as usual, despite a sense of disconnect. Like the natural adjustments my brain usually made were just a hair off where they should’ve been. Instead of possessing and being my body, I was a mass containing a little pink tongue twisting around noises, caught by ornate holes stuck to my sides, feeling nervous sweat envelop me, and trying to make sense of the flashes of light cascading over delicate orbs. Pieces but not a whole. It was quietly terrifying.

That sensation lingered, as I manipulated one hand into its best waving motion to bid each of the others good night. Eventually, just I and Calliope remained. It took me a moment to remember I could unlock my car and a few more to slowly reverse out of the parking spot. Meanwhile, Calliope lightly pranced across her favorite memories from the evening, mixing in a blush of concern with a dash of ease.

It wasn’t till we had made some progress on the main road that I really felt like I had returned to myself. Not because of any great epiphany or reconciliation, but just because I was too worn out.

“You okay?” She asked at some point.

I answered, “Tired. I’m okay. How was work? How are you doing with everything?”

The passenger seat was still set to where my old dad needed it, as I ferried him to countless doctor appointments. At a light, Calliope gingerly nudged it up till it was comfortable for her. She absorbed my questions while settling. A few moments passed quietly.

“Everything?…” She brushed some hair from her eyes and glanced at me.

“Yesterday, you were a man…”

Her knees flumped together beneath her shimmery gray skirt and her mouth undulated, as though bobbing underwater.

“Oh. Right. Shit… what’s happening to me? I never. I mean I would never, I mean never thought…” She took a long breath. “I’m pretty sure I was just a normal guy before. Nothing… Out of sorts. I just feel totally normal like this now. But that can’t be normal, right?”

I didn’t feel like the kind of person to adequately judge normalcy right then. “How do you feel?”

She turned towards the window. “Honestly? A little fluttery. Good fluttery. Weird but good. I guess.”

I asked for more and she stumbled over her own tongue. I could guess what was up, but opted not to dwell on it. Instead, I pushed out random topics to keep things light. The choices still felt like a minefield though.

We could talk about the weather, but it was mostly too damn hot. That just led into wistfulness about the water park. Besides, the evening had finally cooled off, so it now felt tolerable.

“When I get home, I’m going to be looking at so many things. This morning was freaky, but I have some nice clothes. This one, kind of seawater-toned velvet, two-piece looked cute. Despite everything, I was already thinking of trying it on. I have a lot of… Physical considerations and I don’t wanna flash anyone.”

Same here, but for different reasons. I knew she didn’t mean anything against me by it, so I just nodded.

Her legs crossed naturally in the seat.

What were the Force or Forces behind this getting at? First, it shows me a few hints of transformation, while just providing me a single drop. Then, it makes this unabashed girl, with only some distant reminders she was ever any other way. And, on top of that, I get dunked on by nine life-altering changes dangled right in front of me.

What does it want from me? Maybe this really was limbo, or somewhere worse. Hell is other people? Maybe Hell is also being so painfully close to what you want but still have it out of reach. The living reminder of my parents, while their actual selves stay forever with me.

The more I reflected, the more little torments rose to the surface. But they were self-inflicted. Hell can also be of your own making. I could just be happy for Calliope, she certainly was. No internal regret that I have a stump instead of a trench. No envy that her underwear went so deep in the alphabet. No torture that I had to be responsible for everything.

How? How do I get there? It felt like a place I may have even visited recently, when I wasn’t so lost in myself.

Remember. Enjoy this. It wasn’t perfect, but it made me smile. I wasn’t exactly the sort of girl I wanted to be… Yet… But I could work on it.

I smiled at Calliope and teased her with the analogy of ripe melons and exaggerated sound effects. She giggled so hard, I didn’t know if she might keel over.

From that, we just launched into a series of silly stories and boundless goofiness. I felt the sweat I put on my neck fade away.

I even got so far as to casually question why the hell did I decide to invite almost a dozen people to go with me to a water park. Now that was a conundrum exceeding all the other shit from the last week. Calliope had no answer except to remind me that we were getting a group rate and business discount. As well, she noted, “That’s just the box office or entrance gate or whatever they call it. For me, it’s like inviting the neighbors over to see me in my waterproof underwear heh heh. I don’t know them that well, but it might be a fun opportunity to make friends. That’s why you decided to suggest it, right?”

Sure, whatever. I shrugged. She smiled, adding, “Yeah. It was fun to meet some of the regulars and the owner of Light Fantastic.”

Huh? I asked her to clarify. She told me that was the name of the store. “Eridani Ari…oops umm... Airy ad knee… I mean she told me when they first opened that she was worried the metaphor thingy might be a little weird. Because if you get it then you think ‘oh, dancing’. At first, it was going to be ‘Our Turn’ with pink dungeon dice. But she didn’t want to exclude anyone and it’s really cool that a bunch of people who like games can get together and get along…well… try to get along. But it’s a really neat place!”

I hadn’t even bothered to check the name of the store. It didn’t appear any different from the outside and I must’ve missed the change when it happened. I kept missing stuff. I had to do better, to figure this out.

I kept cordial with Calliope once we got on the freeway but also locked my eyes on the road, as though my full attention was there. She fished out her phone and checked a few things by the glow of the blue light.

The west side continued much the same as the east. Businesses sprung up like weeds after winter and early spring rains, only to dry to blanched stalks in the cracks like sickly wheat.

The city tried to boost things and had plenty of land to use. They tried an auto mall, enterprise zone, new hospital, terrible grass amphitheater, and making signs on poles illegal. At least it amounted to more than North Langers. I didn’t want to degrade where Calliope lived, but she also frankly christened it a dump. A cramped corridor of old, decaying businesses. It had an occasional farmers market when people weren’t being crazy and an expansive fairgrounds out in the middle of nowhere.

We both noted there used to be a great gaming place on the avenue, a long time ago. Probably the most famous thing in town was the hospital, five stories with a full, resident psych ward that I hoped I’d never have to avail myself of. We turned before the hospital and passed some average shops on our way to the location Calliope gave me. She had a full-sized house, although she explained it was just a rental. It wasn’t on the bad side of town near the train tracks where several of the classic old houses had been bulldozed. It was older than most, but still obviously newer than mine. It had those orange terra-cotta roof tiles which used to be all the rage. Otherwise, it was bathed in the late 60s to early 70s ranch aesthetic with red double doors and a stone finish. It looked cozy.

Before Calliope got out, she bent over and wrapped her arms around me in a quick hug and I made sure not to do something stupid, like give her a big hard pat on the back just because she used to be a guy.

Once she was gone, I roamed. A quick trip to the college reminded me how many unfamiliar buildings it had now. All the libraries were shut for the night and I had no reason to go to them anyway, since my library app could do far more and I had several brand-new books.

Even the closest bookstore was either closed or closing, and I hadn’t bothered to pop into Starlight. I had plenty to eat and plenty left at home to pick at. I could’ve and should’ve texted Camille to tell her that I was putting together a group, for some reason. I should’ve told her all the crazy shit that was happening to me lately, same went for Calliope, but I just turned on a scary story podcast and drove in coordinate lines along the edge of the desert.

Big Bismuth Hill, a tiny desert community, bordered North Langers to the west and had slowly been consumed by the city, one incorporation at a time. The Basque held domain out further. Tracing the edge of a housing tract, it wasn’t hard to find Santa Maria Crescent, the hybrid retirement community where my parents lived.

The parking lot was empty, except for the cars of nurses. I wasn’t going to go in, not tonight, not right now. I rang mom’s phone but only got her voicemail. It rushed through her name but warmly greeted me and invited me to leave a message. I took a few full breaths before I was ready.

“Mom, this is Maggie, your…this is Maggie. I just wanted to spend some time with you and dad. Is Friday evening good? Everything is fine, no worries. I just wanted to…I’ll tell you later. Nothing big. Just…wanna talk and spend time. See you soon. I love you, mom. Love for dad. All my best. I can text you too, if that’s better. Good night…”

I dipped my phone to my skirt and shut my eyes as the tears spilled out.