I want my dad.
Before bed, I trudge in slipper-clad feet to my desk to power down my laptop. Just as I reach for the mouse, a message box pops up.
LJH6678: Hi. Are you awake?
I recognize Luke’s screen name immediately; he’ll have it for as long as I know him.
LondonLane: Yep, just getting ready to go to bed.
LJH6678: I won’t bug you. Just wanted to say good night.
LondonLane: You’re not bugging me!
I stand in front of my desk, staring at the screen, waiting. After a few seconds, he types back.
LJH6678: I’m glad you told me.
LondonLane: Are you? I’m still not so sure about it.
LJH6678: It was the right thing to do.
LondonLane: If you say so!
The tiny screen is blank for a bit. I check the clock and shift from one foot to the other before leaning over to type.
LondonLane: I should sleep….
LJH6678: Okay.
LJH6678: Wait London? I have a question.
LondonLane: Okay?
LJH6678: I’ve been thinking about all of this today, about you remembering our whole relationship.
I slide down into the chair so I can read easier and type faster.
LondonLane: And?
A little butterfly pokes me under the rib as I hit enter and wait for Luke’s response.
LJH6678: And I’ve been wondering whether you remember everything.
I ponder the question for a moment, then type.
LondonLane: I’m sure I don’t remember everything. I remember the future the way you remember the past. You remember the really good and bad and forget some of the middle, right?
LJH6678: Sure.
LondonLane: Same with me. Why?
LJH6678: Do you remember us having sex?
My hand flies to my mouth, and I look around my room for eavesdroppers, even though I know I’m alone. My stomach won’t stop doing somersaults.
Luke learned that he’s going to die young today and all he wants to ask me about is sex?
LJH6678: Well?