He’s right. Mine looks like it’s been run through a garbage disposal. The screen is a shattered spider web, the case is scratched, dirt and dust are lodged in every nook and cranny, including the charge port, the operating system freezes up on a regular basis, and now it won’t even charge.
“But it still works!” I can’t even convince myself anymore.
Far gone are the days when I’d find any reason to get a new phone. I’ve settled into a cozy routine where I can’t be bothered to transfer my entire digital life onto a new device.
“Not for much longer,” Bowen sniggers, pulling on his black Carhartt jacket, “how much charge do you have?”
“70%. I think it stopped charging overnight.”
“I can add a line to my plan and have you a phone by tonight.”
I stare at him from across the island and then shake my head, “You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do,” he yanks his zipper up, “you need a phone, so I’ll get you a phone.”
I don’t say anything, I just walk around the island and wrap my arms around his waist.
“What?” he laughs. “Are you just not going to have a phone?”
I tilt my head back to look at him, “I can get a new one, it’s not a big deal.”
He envelopes me in a tight hug, “It’s easy enough. Then it’s just done. Remember,” he kisses the top of my head, “I take care of you.”
The most difficult part about living with Bowen is that we share one fundamental character flaw—extreme self-sufficiency. Granted, it wasn’t a flaw when it was just me, but now, the idea of someone else wanting to do mundane, everyday tasks for me feels unnatural. I haven’t had anything close to that since I graduated from high school, and now I don’t even live in the same country as my family. I have Barrett, though, and she’s the closest thing to family I have in the same zip code. But she and I aren’t about to buy each other phones and change each other’s tires.
But Bowen will.
Every couple of weeks, while Barrett tells me about her newest household inconvenience, Bowen always listens in the background, waits for her to finish, and then asks her if she wants him to take care of it. The conversation is always the same.
“You know how to do that?” she asks with astonishment.
“Of course,” Bowen replies, as if she should have already known.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she barks in frustration.
“You didn’t ask…”
The nonchalant way he says it always pushes her buttons, and he knows it. But she always takes him up on his offers, and that’s how it is with us, too. So, when I tell Bowen he doesn’t have to do that, we both know what it means. I can’t give up that mentality completely, but I accept his help, and he accepts me.
“OK, thank you.” This is my usual response.
He winks, “Thank me later.” This is his usual response.
It’s absolutely ridiculous. Never mind the new SUV sitting in the driveway or the fact that I’m living mortgage-free in a house with him. All that is fine, but I still can’t handle Bowen replacing my ruined phone.
I can’t stick around to argue anyway. Vacation and the holiday are over, so I’m back to my regular schedule at work. But, as soon as my coworker, Abby, sits down in front of my desk, it’s apparent that we have a lot of catching up to do.
“What—” Abby zeroes in on my hand as I’m scrawling an email address on a blue post-it, “is that?”
Nothing gets past her, especially on the first day back in the office from a holiday. This happened last Christmas, too…and the Fourth of July, and after her two-week vacation to Tahiti. We sit in each other’s offices for hours on end, guzzling mugs of coffee, trying to remember what we do for work.
Normally, I wouldn’t even be here today. I only go into the office two or three days a week depending on my schedule. And of those days, I usually pick the opposite schedule from everyone else because I like the quiet. It’s also the reason I decided to switch offices and take up residence in the empty one on the second floor next to the server rooms. Abby calls me a hermit, but she still comes by every day to hang out and drink coffee.
As much as I didn’t want my time off to end, it’s a nice change of scenery to come in and see everyone again. Abby sets her mint green Yeti mug on my desk and leans in to get a better look at my ring. She tucks her platinum blonde hair behind her ear and gazes at the teal stone.
“Um, yeah,” I haven’t even thought about how to tell anybody about this, “Bowen asked me to marry him.”
I’m afraid that Abby’s jaw is about to dislocate and end up a swinging pile of bone and flesh on my stack of manila folders.
“He proposed?” she hisses in a hushed voice. “How long have you been dating?”
I shift my eyes to side, “Almost five months.”
I know how this looks to people, but after I met Bowen, I realized drawing our relationship out in some protracted ritual under the socially acceptable guise of dating was useless. Some might argue I’m rushing into things, but the truth is that I’ve been cautious and methodical my entire adult life.
Except for that one time…
And that ended horribly.
But this time is different. Everything is different. When I decided to go on a walk through the woods with Bowen, everything played out the exact opposite from when I decided to go out on a limb and take a drive down to Cincinnati. No lies, no deception, no blood, no guns...
Fortunately, Abby sees value in this approach, too. “That is so edgy and romantic,” she collapses back in her chair with a smile.
The fact that she can use those two words to describe me or anything I do makes me chuckle.
“Settle down,” I stick the note onto the edge of my monitor, “I am none of these things.”
“Whatever,” Abby snorts and stands up, motioning for me to follow her, “I need more coffee. Tell me everything.”
