The Way I Am Now (The Way I Used to Be)

It’s almost midnight when I wake up on the couch in the living room, in the dark. Josh just texted me a minute ago.

I hope you’re sleeping well right now. Talk

tomorrow? I love you

I call him back. He answers right away.This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

“Hey,” he says, and I want to start weeping at the sound of his voice. “There you are.”

“Hi,” I whisper, throat scratchy and worn from all the talking earlier. “I’m sorry. I lay down after I got home, and no one woke me up.”

“It’s okay. How . . . ?” He pauses. “How are you? How did it go?”

“It was a fucking shit show.” I force a bitter laugh only to not start crying again.

“Eden, baby . . . ,” he says so softly, I let his voice wrap around me. “I can be there in the morning if you—”

“No, don’t worry about it. It’s over.”

“What do you mean?”

“No, it’s not over, but my part’s done. My mom and Caelin go tomorrow. I was thinking of staying one more day and coming back Thurs—” I start coughing and reach for the room-temperature glass of water sitting on the side table next to me.

“You okay?” he’s asking as I pull the phone away from my face.

“Yeah, sorry,” I croak, and swallow most of the glass in one gulp my throat is so dry. “Thursday,” I finish. “Early Thursday.”

“Hey, are you getting sick?” he asks.

“No, I don’t think so. My throat just hurts like hell from talking so much. I was talking for hours today. It felt like they asked me a thousand questions.”

He makes a sound I can’t quite decipher.

“I won’t keep you, okay? I’m glad to hear your voice though, even if it’s scratchy.”

“Wait, Josh.” I try to laugh, but I just end up coughing again. “Don’t hang up. I’m not trying to get off the phone. Tell me about your day. How was your birthday?”

“Oh,” he says. “It was fine. I mean, last weekend was really the main event. With you. Best birthday ever.”

“Mmm.”

“You sound exhausted.”

“I wish I was there with you right now,” I whisper.

“So do I, you have no idea.”

“Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s dumb, but could you stay on the phone with me again tonight?”

“It’s not dumb.” I hear some shuffling and the creaking of his mattress. I close my eyes and can picture him getting settled in bed. “I just put you on speaker.”

“I love you,” I tell him.

“I love you too.”

“Thank you.”

“For what, loving you?” he asks, a small laugh in his voice.

I smile—it hurts my face. “Yes.”