You are Nine, Going on Nineteen

3 Mar

So Z got dumped by his girlfriend. Or did he? It came up the first time in a moment of anxiety atop a sand dune in Mui Ne.

“I think A doesn’t want to go out with me anymore. Or then again, maybe she’s joking. I don’t think she meant it,” he says.

“Meant what?” I say.

“Meant what she said in her email. She said, ‘You mustn’t swear. We’re splitting up.’”

We discuss the email. I make soothing noises. We move on.

Late this evening, after Z has dined, drawn and made an insane YouTube video starring the beachball and my lipstick, I hear the unmistakably old-school ring of Skype.

“What are you doing?” I say. “Didn’t I say it’s bedtime?”

“I’m Skyping A,” he says. “She’s online now!”

A muffled, crackling conversation ensues, after which he seems much happier, although he is eagerly awaiting an email.

“So is everything alright between you and A now?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he says. “We didn’t talk about it. But she seemed totally fine on the phone. So I don’t think we can be splitting up.”

“You know you’ll always be friends?” I say. (They have known each other since she was born and he was six months old.)

“I know,” he says. “That makes me feel much better.”

They grow up fast. My lord, they really do.

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