Talking to a complete stranger is....strange. There's no face to the person you're speaking to so subconsciously we often make up an entire being in our own heads. We don't really know how this person looks or sounds or if they're anything like the person we think they are.
In reality it's hard to be one hundred percent open and honest and completely you when there's a screen between you and the person you're speaking to. You really only hear whatever they're willing to share and what side of themselves they want you to know.
That in mind, I happen to enjoy talking to this stranger. He's as strange sober as he is drunk, he has an odd love for cereal but hates mornings, he's busy quite a lot so he must do something time-consuming, he makes terrible puns and always insists I have to watch the newest documentary he's obsessed with.
He loves the beach and the sun and hot weather for reasons beyond me. He's always with his friends who he's constantly complaining about - more in the morning when he's grumpy, so much so that I almost feel like I know them more than I do him.
In my head, he's a local boy. Someone on campus probably studying film or something of the sort with how many documentaries he watches. He's an intelligent human being who probably likes deep intellectual conversations about people and things.
In my head, he's sweet and kind and enjoys company even if there's no conversation going on. Most boys at my school look about the same so I take turns switching his face everyday depending on our conversation.
When he's cranky he's the dark haired boy in my Tuesday evening class making snarking comments under his breath. When he's in one of his funny moods full of bad puns and bubblegum wrapper jokes he's the lighthearted Korean worker at the bookstore I often visit that Haley briefly dated a few months back.
When he's supportive and sweet he's the beautiful honey-brown skinned boy who always smells of freshly baked goods and lives down the hall who I often talk to whenever I'm feeling homesick.
My point is, I have no idea who this stranger is or what he looks like. Which has been shutting down my brain and its ability to function properly for weeks now. Yes I know little things about him but I don't actually know him. These are just little things he's mentioned casually or that I've picked up on.
I want to know things.
I want to know what was the first documentary he watched and what it was that got him hooked. I want to know what he does that makes him so busy all the time. I want to know why he loves the beach so much. I want to know what he looks like and what the hell his actual name is.
Yodel: Sorry, was sleeping
P: sleeping?
Yodel: Yes
P: It's 5 in the evening????
Yodel: No, it's 12 in the afternoon
Yodel: Timezones p
P: I thought you said you were on a break now?
Yodel: I am
P: Dont people usually go home during breaks?
Yodel: I am home
P: Well where's that?
Yodel: Wouldn't you like to know ;-)
P: I would. That's why I asked.
Yodel: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
P: Swear I'll fight you yodel dont test me
Yodel: hahahaha
"Have you seen the coffee pot?" Haley walks into the kitchen disheveled and spacey. "In the dishwasher maybe?" I reply unsure.
"Right," she sighs, opening the machine and pulling out each tray in search of the coffee pot. "You okay?" I offer, setting my phone down. "Yeah, just, yeah...I'm fine." I watch her run a hand through her messy hair and set the coffee pot before walking back out.
Yodel: Do you think dogs talk to each other when no ones around?
Yodel: Do you think they know bad words?
Yodel: P
Yodel: I need answers
Yodel: What do you think
P: I think you should tell me where's home
P: ...And that you're crazy
Yodel: Mean :-( I'm gonna tell my dog about you and how mean you are
P: Is he gonna tell the rest of the neighborhood dogs as well?
Yodel: Laugh all you want meanie
P: 😂
I glance in the direction Haley went and frown when her coffees ready but she doesn't come back for a cup. Setting my phone down I walk down the hall and stand in the doorway to her opened bedroom. It all makes sense now.
Her desks full of various books and notebooks littered across. She sits in her chair pen gliding across a fresh piece of notebook paper. I debate on whether or not to make a comment about how I told her not to leave her cramming for the last second days ago.
Acknowledging the tense aura surrounding her I decide not to.
"I'm gonna head to the store for a few things, did you want anything?" I propose in the quiet room. She jumps with a startle turning to look at me. "Jesus, El," she places a hand of her chest. "Sorry. Store?"
"Uh," Haley sets the pen down and rubs her forehead. "Just um, some ice cream maybe? And something for this terrible stress headache." "Got it," I nod. "What? No I told you so?" She huffs. "Think the headache says it for me," I smirk, walking back down the hall with her grunting at me.
P: Grocery store stop, anything you're feeling?
It's something we've become accustomed to, asking the other questions of the sort and speaking like we're just down the road from each other. I don't really know why we do it but it's fun and stupid and it also lets me know more.
Like last week for example, he was suckered into buying girl scout cookies and asked which were my favorite so he could get them. When I told him they were the peanut butter and chocolate ones we had a very heated conversation about how on earth he thought the thin mints were the best.
Just adding to the list of useless facts about him that I really don't need to know rather than knowing something important like, I don't know... where he's from.
Yodel: Thin mints!!
I roll my eyes with a chuckle and lock my phone before heading out.
-
"I thought you were going for a few things, what is all this and why do you have so many girl scout cookies?" Sean's home now. He works at the same bookstore where lighthearted asian yodel works at. Of course his names actually Jeff and Sean's convinced he's absolutely gay. "You know how sneaky those girl scouts are and I did get a few things, see," I gesture at my bags full of things. "Few things." Sean rolls his eyes, digging into bag after bag.
"Few things means a bag, maybe two. Not five bags and an ice cream tub." "Well you seem to be enjoying my five bags and ice cream tub so shut up," I hum, unloading my bags of purely junk. "Mm, guess what," Sean says through mouthful of cookies. "You're going to pay me back for those cookies you're eating?" I reply lightly. "No. Even better, Jeff touched my hand today," he announces gleefully. "Like touched it or you two were working and it may have brushed against yours by accident?"
"I'm telling you. This was not an accidental touch Ellie," Sean insists. "You don't even know if he's into guys and why does any of this matter? I thought you were seeing whats-her-name." "Oh Ellie, so sweet, so innocent," he tisks. I give him a look of confusion, opening a box of brownies I bought. "I think I know when a guys into me," Sean chuckles sure of himself. "Like when you thought that lifeguard by the pool was in love with you and his girlfriend slapped you in the face?" He narrows his eyes at me and gives me a look that says we agreed never to bring that up ever again.
"That was one time," he groans. "What about the time-" "Okay Penelope, we get it. Sometimes my gaydar is a little off but most often than not I'm always right." "Okay Sean, whatever you want to believe," I grin.
"Why are you even still in here don't you have a pedophile to go chat to," Sean flails his arms defeatedly. "I'm nineteen, talking to me technically wouldn't make him a pedophile." He mimics my words in a high pitched tone. "Very mature. I can see why Jeff is so madly in love with you," I tease. "You think I'm kidding but when I get him back here we're doing it in your room!" Sean grumbles taking my cookies with him.
-
P: Are you going to tell me where you live now?
Yodel: I told you where I live, I live everywhere
P: Yeah yeah yeah I get it you travel but where do you LIVE where. Is. Home.
Yodel: Why do you want to know so bad
P: Because we're sorta friends now right? I think I should know more about my friend don't you?
Yodel: Where do you live
P: You know where I live you found my number
P: You also know the first letter to my name and how old I am
P: I'm breaking all the internet safety rules for you ya know
P: I'm gonna fall asleep soon....
Yodel: Good. I'm going out tonight and I don't need you bugging me
P: You're the one who wouldn't stop texting me I should just put my phone on silent now
Yodel: I think that would probably be wise actually haha
P: Are you seriously not going to tell me where you're from?
P: :(
Yodel: Okay fine pick one
P: What?
Yodel: Pick which you want to know: first letter of my name or where I'm from
I stare at the message on the screen, chewing the inside of my cheek and moiling it over. On one hand I can finally get the answer to the question I've been asking all day...on the other hand there's only so many names a letter can start with right? Plus I wouldn't have to be the only one with the beginning of their name out. And okay maybe I also didn't want to give up the small fantasy that he still lived around here just yet.
P: Name
It feels like hours waiting for his reply, my eyelids getting heavier and heavier by the second. Just as they flutter shut, giving into the late hour, my phone buzzes in my limp hand. Through squinted eyes at the bright screen I read his message.
Yodel: L
I toss my phone aside and let my eyes droop shut again. I'm left with thoughts of 'L' and all the name possibilities.
---
Let me know how you feel about the texting format please! Do you like it this way or how it is in the previous chapters?
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