The rest of the afternoon was a study in tense avoidance.
My phone buzzed incessantly in my pocket, each vibration a tiny reminder that Apple existed and was apparently determined to document every moment of my weekend in real time.
Apple: ALIVE?
Apple: HELLO?
Apple: G. It's been hours. I'm starting to pace. Jessica's cousins are starting to worry.
Apple: If you don't answer in the next five minutes, I'm calling the forest rangers. And by forest rangers I mean that one guy who hikes. I may have unmatched him but I can RE-match him. Don't test me.
Apple: Four minutes.
Apple: Three minutes.
Apple: Two minutes. I'm not kidding. I'm literally googling "how to find someone in a forest" and it's giving me wilderness survival tips which is NOT HELPFUL.
Apple: One minute. I'm sweating. Are you sweating? Probably not because you're all emotionally constipated. But I AM.
Apple: TIME'S UP. I'm calling in the cavalry. Or at least calling the front desk of that creepy lodge and pretending to be your very anxious sister who needs to confirm you haven't been murdered by a CEO with commitment issues.
I finally pulled out my phone, scrolling through the wall of texts with something close to disbelief. In all my centuries, across all the humans I had encountered, Apple was in a category all her own. Here was a woman with neon pink nails and what she called "va-va-voom fashion sense" who could read people with an accuracy that bordered on supernatural. She didn't know my secrets—couldn't even imagine them—and yet she saw through me more clearly than anyone I had ever met. It was both terrifying and oddly comforting.
After what felt like her seventy-third message, I typed back.
Me: I'm alive. Starting another workshop now. And no, the Psycho didn't make me cry or do anything. We just talked.
The response was immediate.
Apple: "Just talked"???? G. "Just talked" is doing HEAVY lifting there. What did he say? What did YOU say? Did you use to make him just talk? Did he look at you like you were something he couldn't figure out? And you missed out his outfit yesterday because you were having your "allergies" which you still think I'm buying that. DETAILS!!
Me: Tonight. I promise. And yes, I know I missed his outfit yesterday. We'll do a full debrief.
Apple: Damn right we will. We need to BRAINSTORM. This is critical intel. Now go. Be brilliant. Make him confused. LOVE YOU.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket and rejoined the world.