EPISODE 7: THE JEALOUS TEXT
961 Words
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Day 10. Wednesday.
It started with a photo.
At 3pm my time, 8am his time, Tariq posted to his story.
Him at the office. Coffee in hand. And next to him, a girl. Blonde, laughing, leaning on his desk. Caption: _"New coworker. She’s saving me from this coffee."_
My stomach flipped.
I told myself it was nothing. New coworker. Office photo. Normal.
But I stared at it for 10 minutes. Zoomed in. Tried to see if his hand was touching hers. It wasn’t.
Still.
At 5pm he texted:
*Tariq: Long day. That coffee was awful 😂*
*Me: Saw. Glad someone saved you.*
*Tariq: ?*
*Me: Nothing.*
"Nothing" is always something.
He didn’t reply for 2 hours.
When he did:
*Tariq: Morie. What’s up?*
*Me: Nothing. Busy.*
I wasn’t busy. I was spiraling.
The girl had commented on his post. _"Next coffee is on me 😉"_
She had 3 mutuals with him already.
She was pretty.
She was there.
And I was here.
By 8:30pm I had worked myself into a knot. I was mad at him. Mad at myself for being mad. Mad at distance for making me feel like this.
9:00pm. He called.
"Hey," he said. He looked normal. Tired, but normal.
"Hey."
"You’re quiet."
"Am I?"
"Yeah. You okay?"
"Fine."
He frowned. "Morie. Talk to me."
I looked away from the camera. "I saw your story."
"Okay..."
"With the girl."
"Oh." He got it. "Aisha."
"Aisha," I repeated. The name felt sharp.
"She’s my coworker, Morie. She started Monday. She’s helping me figure out the printer because I’m an idiot."
"And the coffee?"
"And the coffee. She brought me one because I complained for 20 minutes."
"And the winky face?"
He paused. "What winky face?"
"On your post. ‘Next coffee is on me 😉’"
He laughed. Then stopped when he saw my face.
"Oh. That. She does that to everyone. It’s like her signature. She did it on my boss’s post too."
"Right," I said. But my voice was small.
"Morie, look at me."
I didn’t.
"Morie."
I looked.
"I get it," he said softly. "I’m 7,000 miles away. And some girl is in my office and I posted her. I’d be weird too."
"You wouldn’t," I mumbled.
"I would. I’d be a mess." He ran a hand through his hair. "I’m sorry I posted it without thinking. I wasn’t trying to hide her. I was just... showing my day."
"I know," I said. And I did. But knowing didn’t stop the ache.
"The distance makes everything louder, huh?" he said.
"Yeah."
"A comment feels like a threat. A photo feels like proof."
"Yeah."
He leaned closer to the camera. "For the record, I don’t want coffee from Aisha. I want it from you. Burnt and terrible and made in our kitchen."
A tiny laugh escaped me. "It’s awful and you know it."
"I know. I miss it."
We sat in quiet for a second.
"I’m sorry I got weird," I said.
"Don’t be sorry for feeling things. Just tell me. Like we said on Day 3."
"Deal."
"And I’m sorry for not thinking. I’ll be more careful. Not because I did anything wrong, but because you matter more than a story post."
"Okay."
He smiled. "Can I tell you something dumb?"
"What?"
"I got jealous today too."
"You?"
"Yeah. You posted that photo with your sister and your cousin’s dog was in it. And I thought... what if Bwino forgets me?"
I blinked. "Bwino will never forget you."
"I know. But the brain is dumb at 2am."
"So we’re both idiots," I said.
"The biggest," he agreed.
The tension broke. We talked for the rest of the hour. About Aisha, who apparently talks too loud and steals everyone’s pens. About my day, which was boring except for the jealousy spiral.
At 9:50pm he said, "Can we make a rule?"
"What rule?"
"If either of us gets weird about someone, we say it. Immediately. No ‘nothing’ texts."
"Deal. And no posting photos of coworkers without warning?"
He grinned. "Deal. Unless they’re really ugly. Then I have to."
"Rude."
"True."
We hung up at 10pm.
I felt lighter. Stupid, but lighter.
In my notebook:
_Day 10: I got jealous. I told him. He got jealous too. We made rules. 172 days to go._
At 11:05pm:
*Tariq: You’re the only one I want coffee from.*
*Me: Even if it’s terrible?*
*Tariq: Especially if it’s terrible.*
*Tariq: And for the record, Aisha is married. Has 2 kids. Showed me photos today.*
*Me: Oh. Well. That’s good.*
*Tariq: You’re my person. Toronto girl or not.*
*Me: You’re my person. Toronto or not.*
I fell asleep without checking his story again.
*Thursday. Day 11.*
At 9am:
*Tariq: Morning. No coworker photos today. Promise.*
*Me: Morning. No dog photos without you in them. Promise.*
On our 9pm call he showed me the office. Panned the camera so I could see Aisha at her desk, with her husband and kids as her wallpaper.
"See? Threat level: zero," he said.
"Threat level: zero," I agreed.
We laughed about how dumb we were.
"Distance makes us crazy," he said.
"Distance makes us honest," I said.
"That too."
Day 10 taught us something.
Jealousy isn’t about not trusting each other.
It’s about fear. Fear that someone closer will matter more.
The only cure is talking. Saying "this made me feel weird" instead of "nothing."
We’re 10 days in.
We’ve fought.
We’ve been homesick.
We’ve been jealous.
And we’re still here.
Still choosing 9pm.
Still choosing each other.
In my notebook:
_Day 11: Jealousy is just fear in a loud voice. We’re learning to answer it quietly. 171 days to go._
At 10:30pm:
*Tariq: Sleep well, my person.*
*Me: You too, my person.*
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to be continued...*
- Writer
