Page 35 of The Comeback Summer

About his family: “My mom always said I look like a young Harrison Ford. Do you see it?” Obviously waiting for me to say I do, which I don’t.

Finally, he excuses himself to go to the bathroom. I’d like to do the same, but I’m not stupid enough to leave my half-full glass of pinot grigio with a man who has no identifying features.

I pick up my phone. There’s a text from Libby.

Libby:Is it going well??? Is Rob amazing???

Sighing, I respond.

Hannah:I’ve said maybe thirty words

Libby:So that’s a yes???

I’ll fill her in when I get home—and talk to her about vetting future dates better. At least it’s almost over. I put my phone down on the table and massage my neck. Rob has been boring and overbearing, but nothing horrific has happened. If anythinggood has come out of this date, it’s that I think I can get through the next eleven, especially if I give Libby some feedback.

My phone buzzes again, and I pick it up, expecting another text from my sister.

But it’s from Josh, and as I read the first message, several others appear.

Josh:Remember in our junior year in high school when we snuck out and went to the graveyard one night

Josh:To see that mausoleum that was supposedly haunted and when we got there a possum ran out from behind a gravestone and scared the living daylights out of me

Josh:And you fell on the ground laughing until you peed your pants a little

Josh:And then you changed in my car into a pair of old sweatpants I kept in the trunk and they were gigantic on you so you had to pull the drawstring so tight and tied a knot I could never get out

Josh:Anyway, how are you?

A laugh bubbles out of me, despite the headache. This stream-of-consciousness texting is so very Josh. He used to send me things like this all the time, along with random GIFs or memes to make me laugh.

It’s strange to remember I was once that kind of girl, spontaneous enough to sneak out at night with her boyfriend, to fall on the ground laughing.

My chest feels strangely warm. Which I donotwant to happen with regard to Josh.

So I shut that feeling down.

Hannah:I’m on a date, actually

Josh:Ah

Josh:OK

Josh:Understood

Josh:Bye

The warmth in my chest curdles. Now I feel bad. I’m debating how to respond when another text arrives.

Josh:So yeah, my meds have worn off for the day. Obvi. Sorry for bugging you.

I can practically feel him cringing on the other end of that message. And suddenly I want him to know that I appreciated his texts. That they made me laugh for the first time all day.

Hannah:You’re not bugging me. The date is terrible. He’s in the bathroom and I’m trying to decide if I should make a run for it. But that’s rude, right?

Josh:Depends. How terrible? Like, flossing his teeth at the table terrible? Or like, racist and sexist and homophobic terrible?

Hannah:More like, patronizing and won’t stop talking about himself

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