Page 85 of Book and Ladder
BTTP: So, you like a bookish man.
M&M: For Rory, I do. So, since you’re obviously not team Jess, which team are you on? Wait. Let me guess. You’re team Dean!
BTTP: How did you guess?
M&M: I don’t know. And now, it’s been so niceknowing you … or chatting … spending time together here. I’ll miss our talks.
BTTP: Ha! I thought I was the one ending things when you flew the team Jess flag.
M&M: At least have the decency to explain yourself. ;)
BTTP: I watched very few of the later episodes, so I may not know everything, but Dean was her first love. He’s a considerate guy. Dependable. I mean, he built her a car—the car Jess wrecked, I might add.
M&M: Nice final jab there.
BTTP: Thanks. So, what do you have against Dean?
M&M: Immaturity. Passive aggression. Dean was great until he wasn’t—critical of Rory, jealous of Jess, even spying through her mom. He and Rory never had any real spark. Dean could have been a good friend to Rory, but he’s not Jess.
BTTP: I do agree there was far more chemistry with Jess. Dangerous chemistry, but yes—chemistry.
M&M: So, enough aboutGilmore Girls—though I could reminisce about or rewatch that show forever, be warned. You messaged me first tonight. Did you have something you wanted to talk about?
BTTP: I did, but I feel better now.
M&M: Yeah? Me too.
He doesn’t type anything right away and I wonder if I scared him off. But then his answer comes.
BTTP: I had a rough week. I don’t want to go into it. Maybe another time.
M&M: I’m sorry you had a rough week.
BTTP: Well, like I said, I feel better now.
M&M: I’m glad. So, what’s the next podcast about?
BTTP: I thought I’d talk about books that have been made into movies. I’m starting withThe Princess Bride.
We talk aboutThe Princess Bridefor a while. When I finally notice the clock, it’s almost an hour past my usual bedtime. Reluctantly, I do the responsible thing and let BTTP know.
M&M: I have to get up early for work. I’d better go.
BTTP: Me too. I’ll try to message you tomorrow.
M&M: Sounds great. Goodnight.
BTTP: Sweet dreams, M&M.
I’m brushing my teeth when my phone rings.Who could that be at this hour?
I pad into my bedroom and pick the phone up off my bedside table.
Mom.
She’s called a few times over the past two days since the vote. I didn’t stop to talk to her and Dad when I fled the scene at the town hall. I needed to get out of there asap. Hugging her would have burst the dam I was so diligently plugging.
Since then, I’ve been on autopilot. And each time I see Patrick, the knife twists.
