YOU DOING?
Leo
Relax, cuz, just having fun.
“Ahhh!” I scream at the screen. It’s one thing to do this when we’re at a family party—I swallow at the lump in my throatand type.
Shane
GET THE HELL OFF MY PROFILE, ASSHOLE.
Leo
Whoa, calm down, you don’t curse.
Shane
I THINK I JUST DID.
Shane
ONE MORE COMMENT AND I’LL BLOCK YOU.
A new notification pops up. Another post on my wall for the world to see.
Leo Primaveri
BITCH.
A tear sears down my cheek. Delete. I storm through Facebook. Leo: Block. Alfie: Block. Angelo: Block. Anthony: Block.
I returnto the kitchen ten minutes later. Babe’s still here. She looks up from her laptop as I settle back into the chair across from her. She must have picked it up for me.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, pushing a dark curl behind her ears. She’s wearing adorable gold Mickey-shaped studs.
“Yeah, it’s fine. I took care of it,” I breathe. Babe rises from her seat, comes behind my chair, and wraps mein an awkward hug.
“I don’t think he saw,” she says quietly.
She saw . My face burns.
Babe sits back down and tells me that her older brother is constantly making fun of her obsession with Disney. She tries to make me feel better. “Pilot’s been in class. We don’t have smartphones here; he probably didn’t see.”
She’s right. She’s probably right.
I throw myself into proofreading the “That TimeI Lost My Passport” blog post about Rome. Babe lingers with me. I’m pretty sure she’s just waiting for Pilot to get back, so she can ask him about Paris. Now, there’s the added bonus of finding out if he saw the stuff on Facebook. He finally strides in at 4:00 p.m., a few minutes after I publish the Rome piece.
12. Has He Heard?
“Hey!” Pilot greets us. Normal inflection. Good sign.
We hey back casually. At least I try to. I think my eyes are a little too wide to really pull it off. He’s carrying a store-bought frozen dinner that he pops out of its cardboard box and throws into the microwave before dropping into the seat at the head of the table. Babe and I are seated on either side of him.
“Sohow’s it going?” Babe asks tentatively.
“Good, good! I got my internship confirmed this morning so that was good,” he answers normally.
“Me too!” I interject.
“Nice!” he adds with a grin/head-bob combo. He’s wearing a red-and-black plaid shirt with a black T-shirt layered underneath. I nod, relaxing slightly.
Babe smiles at me like see, we’re fine before turning back to him. “I’m trying toplan a trip to Paris for this weekend! You want to come?”
Pilot glances at me and then back at Babe. “Uh, yeah, I’m down. Who else is going?”
“Shane and me and my friend Chad—so far!” The room’s slowly filling with the delicious smell of Italian food as the microwave defrosts Pilot’s meal.
Pies makes a Soprano-esque frown-approval face and nods his head. “Sign me up. Sounds like a party. Wecan take the Eurostar train, right?”
I turn my attention back to my computer screen, a tiny relieved smile crawling up my face.
“Yes!” Babe beams. “Yes, we can. Great. I’m going to look up the things we can do and get everything planned, and it’s going to be so much fun. I’m so excited! It’s gonna be epic!” She gathers her things and whooshes out of the kitchen.
The microwave beeps. Pilot getsup to grab his lasagna and slides back into his chair. “So, we’re going to Paris,” he says casually, digging into his food.
I look up for a second to make eye contact. “Apparently.”
He nods, his lips quirked up to one side. I turn back to my computer. When Pilot finishes eating and leaves the kitchen, I blast Ke$ha and give in to a brief celebratory he-didn’t-see-the-posts-and-we’re-going-to-Parisdance party.
13. Here Goes Nothing
1/19/11 11:05 p.m.
Tomorrow after class we go to Paris. What is my life now? I’m glad I’ve been hoarding my savings for years because I’m going to run out of
Leo
Relax, cuz, just having fun.
“Ahhh!” I scream at the screen. It’s one thing to do this when we’re at a family party—I swallow at the lump in my throatand type.
Shane
GET THE HELL OFF MY PROFILE, ASSHOLE.
Leo
Whoa, calm down, you don’t curse.
Shane
I THINK I JUST DID.
Shane
ONE MORE COMMENT AND I’LL BLOCK YOU.
A new notification pops up. Another post on my wall for the world to see.
Leo Primaveri
BITCH.
A tear sears down my cheek. Delete. I storm through Facebook. Leo: Block. Alfie: Block. Angelo: Block. Anthony: Block.
I returnto the kitchen ten minutes later. Babe’s still here. She looks up from her laptop as I settle back into the chair across from her. She must have picked it up for me.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, pushing a dark curl behind her ears. She’s wearing adorable gold Mickey-shaped studs.
“Yeah, it’s fine. I took care of it,” I breathe. Babe rises from her seat, comes behind my chair, and wraps mein an awkward hug.
“I don’t think he saw,” she says quietly.
She saw . My face burns.
Babe sits back down and tells me that her older brother is constantly making fun of her obsession with Disney. She tries to make me feel better. “Pilot’s been in class. We don’t have smartphones here; he probably didn’t see.”
She’s right. She’s probably right.
I throw myself into proofreading the “That TimeI Lost My Passport” blog post about Rome. Babe lingers with me. I’m pretty sure she’s just waiting for Pilot to get back, so she can ask him about Paris. Now, there’s the added bonus of finding out if he saw the stuff on Facebook. He finally strides in at 4:00 p.m., a few minutes after I publish the Rome piece.
12. Has He Heard?
“Hey!” Pilot greets us. Normal inflection. Good sign.
We hey back casually. At least I try to. I think my eyes are a little too wide to really pull it off. He’s carrying a store-bought frozen dinner that he pops out of its cardboard box and throws into the microwave before dropping into the seat at the head of the table. Babe and I are seated on either side of him.
“Sohow’s it going?” Babe asks tentatively.
“Good, good! I got my internship confirmed this morning so that was good,” he answers normally.
“Me too!” I interject.
“Nice!” he adds with a grin/head-bob combo. He’s wearing a red-and-black plaid shirt with a black T-shirt layered underneath. I nod, relaxing slightly.
Babe smiles at me like see, we’re fine before turning back to him. “I’m trying toplan a trip to Paris for this weekend! You want to come?”
Pilot glances at me and then back at Babe. “Uh, yeah, I’m down. Who else is going?”
“Shane and me and my friend Chad—so far!” The room’s slowly filling with the delicious smell of Italian food as the microwave defrosts Pilot’s meal.
Pies makes a Soprano-esque frown-approval face and nods his head. “Sign me up. Sounds like a party. Wecan take the Eurostar train, right?”
I turn my attention back to my computer screen, a tiny relieved smile crawling up my face.
“Yes!” Babe beams. “Yes, we can. Great. I’m going to look up the things we can do and get everything planned, and it’s going to be so much fun. I’m so excited! It’s gonna be epic!” She gathers her things and whooshes out of the kitchen.
The microwave beeps. Pilot getsup to grab his lasagna and slides back into his chair. “So, we’re going to Paris,” he says casually, digging into his food.
I look up for a second to make eye contact. “Apparently.”
He nods, his lips quirked up to one side. I turn back to my computer. When Pilot finishes eating and leaves the kitchen, I blast Ke$ha and give in to a brief celebratory he-didn’t-see-the-posts-and-we’re-going-to-Parisdance party.
13. Here Goes Nothing
1/19/11 11:05 p.m.
Tomorrow after class we go to Paris. What is my life now? I’m glad I’ve been hoarding my savings for years because I’m going to run out of
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