EPISODE 2: THE FIRST 9PM CALL🤙
803 Words
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Day 2.
I woke up and the first thing I did was check my phone.
No new messages.
Then I remembered: he’s 7 hours behind me. He’s still asleep in Toronto.
The house felt different. Not empty-empty. Just... Tariq-empty. Like the air didn’t know what to do with all the space.
I made tea and stared at it until it went cold. I tried to work, but I kept glancing at the clock. 9:55am. 10:20am. 11:04am.
_He’ll message when he lands. He said he would._
At 12:47pm my phone buzzed so hard I nearly dropped it.
*Tariq: I’m in Toronto. I made it. It’s freezing. Send warmth.*
*Tariq: Apartment is tiny and smells like old pizza but it’s ours for 6 months*
*Tariq: I already miss your tea*
I typed back so fast my fingers tripped over each other.
*Me: YOU MADE IT!!!*
*Me: Send me a pic of the pizza apartment*
*Me: I’m sending warmth rn 🔥🔥🔥*
He sent a photo. One room, mattress on the floor, a window with frost on it. And him, in that same grey hoodie, grinning with red cheeks.
*Tariq: See? Survived.*
*Tariq: 9pm tonight?*
*Me: 9pm. I’ll be here.*
The whole day I walked around like I was waiting for something important. Because I was.
At 8:30pm I showered. At 8:45pm I put on the sweatshirt he left at my place. It still smelled like him. At 8:55pm I sat on the couch with tea, my phone on the coffee table, and Bwino’s photo as my wallpaper.
8:59pm.
My heart did that stupid fluttery thing.
9:00pm.
The screen lit up. *Tariq is calling...*
"Hey," I answered.
"Hey you," he said.
He looked tired. Real tired. Dark circles, hair messy, but he was in that hoodie and behind him I could see the bare walls of the Toronto apartment.
"How was the flight?" I asked.
"Long. Cold. I’m pretty sure the guy next to me ate garlic for 14 hours straight." He laughed. "But I’m here. And you’re there. So."
We just looked at each other for a second. 7,000 miles and a screen between us, and it felt both huge and small.
"Show me the apartment," I said.
He flipped the camera. It really was tiny. Mattress, one chair, a hot plate, and a window that looked out onto snow.
"This is home for now," he said. "For us."
"For us," I repeated. The words felt better today.
We talked about stupid stuff. About how he couldn’t figure out the heater. About how my sister asked if he was "that Toronto boy" yet. About Bwino, who apparently tried to sleep in Tariq’s suitcase before his cousin took him.
At 9:20pm there was an awkward pause. The first one.
Normally we’d just reach for each other’s hand. Now there was nothing to reach for.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah. You?"
"Yeah."
Another pause.
"I hate that I can’t hug you right now," I blurted.
He exhaled. "Me too. God, Morie. I reached for my phone in bed earlier and it wasn’t you."
My throat got tight. "Day 2 is weird."
"Day 2 is weird," he agreed. "But we’ll get used to it."
"Will we?"
"I think so. Because it’s us."
Something about the way he said it made my chest loosen.
We settled into a rhythm. He told me about his new coworkers. I told him about the weird customer who tried to pay with exact change in coins today. He showed me the snow falling outside his window. I showed him my terrible tea.
At 9:50pm he yawned. Big.
"You should sleep," I said.
"I don’t want to hang up."
"I don’t either."
But we both knew we had to. He had work at 7am. I had work at 8am.
"Same time tomorrow?" he asked.
"Same time."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He smiled. "Day 2 down. 180 to go."
"180," I said. "We can do 180."
"Goodnight, Morie."
"Goodnight, Tariq."
The call ended.
I sat there for a while with the dark screen in my lap. It was different than yesterday. Yesterday was shock. Today was... routine starting.
I grabbed my notebook.
_Day 2: He called at 9pm. He’s cold. The apartment is small. We talked for 50 minutes. It hurt less than yesterday._
I set my alarm for 8:55pm again.
Later, at 11:30pm, my phone buzzed.
*Tariq: Can’t sleep. Thinking of you. Counting days but also not. Love you.*
*Me: Love you too. Sleep. I’m here.*
*Tariq: You’re here. That helps.*
I fell asleep with his last text on my screen.
Day 2 was done.
We’d figured out the first 9pm call.
It wasn’t perfect. It was awkward and sad and sweet all at once.
But we did it.
And if we could do Day 2, maybe we could do Day 3.
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to be continued....*
- Writer
