Area Codes // dreamwastaken - Reuploaded

fourty-two

what's your address? i'm buying you those fucking goat beard flowers vou like

and it's totally not because flowers are on sale the day after valentine's

i'm not telling you my address and i'm not talking to you

you dumped me 😭💔

babe i swear i didn't mean it

then why did you say it, bartholomew ?

i almost burst into tears in the middle of class

almost

sweetheart please, we need to work this out

how else are we gonna have baby 2 if we don't

is that all you're thinking about right now?

unbelievable

you dumped your beloved wife and all you want is another child

i can't help how my mind works

just please

give me your address

let me spoil you, ahaha

with your discount pity flowers ?

no thank you

pleaseeeeee

please

please

please

please

please

please

please

please

omfg fine

123 Sesame St. Orlando, FL 32816

i'm gonna be really mad if there aren't any flowers and you show up to kill me

i thought you wanted to be murdered

in a spicy way. not in some home invasion. that's boring.

you're an enigma

the flowers will be there in an hour :)

if they aren't astilbes, i will call you crying and you'll be forced to listen to it

that's an odd threat

---

Caoimhe had a headache. It was well deserved. what with the entire bottle of red wine she'd guzzled through while watching big shot lawyers fall in love with single parent farmers on tv. Wine had always hit her differently than other alcohols.

She'd gotten ready and gone to class like ever other weekday, chugging powerade and rubbing at her eye makeup until she looked like a raccoon. Her UCF sweatshirt smelled like puke from a party she'd long forgotten, and her black leggings had a tear in the thigh. Caoimhe's dull red hair was pulled back in a low ponytail that could rival the founding fathers'. But she pushed through, waiting for the blissful moment where she could come home and throw herself back on her bed.

Her pillow still smelled like cheap detergent as she buried her nose into it, happy to finally relax. The day was over. No more classes. She didn't have any more responsibilities.

There was a knock at the door.
Caoimhe groaned, she'd forgotten about the flowers. She rolled out of bed as there was another knock, yelling "Coming!" and trying to quickly fix her appearance as best she could as she walked the front door.

Caoimhe yawned and opened the door, immediately greeted by a tall blond man whose green eyes sparkled as they looked down at her. She examined the vase in his hand. To Clay's credit, they were actually astilbes.

"Delivery for Mrs. Gertrude Jenkins?"

She smiled slightly. Of course he'd done that. She'd probably have used his fake name too. Inside jokes were always so endearing. "Yes, that's me."

"Sorry, may I read the card first?"

Caoimhe was not about to argue with someone who made minimum wage. If he wanted to read the card, she'd let him read the card.

"Dear Gertrude, I'm sorry for dumping you after all you've done for me. You've nursed me back to health, given me a baby, and most importantly, likes on Twitter. Please accept my discount pity flowers. Love, your husband Bartholomew."

Nevermind. She totally would've argued with the minimum wage guy if she'd known what was in the card. Caoimhe's face was flushed pink.

"Oh, uh, thank you. Have a nice day, sir." She reached out and plucked the vase out of his hand, desperate to end this interaction before it got even more awkward.

He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but Caoimhe shut the door square in his face, breathing a sigh of embarrassment and relief. She placed the vase down on the kitchen counter, sniffing the astilbes hesitantly.

There was another knock at the door.