Yooouuu…

The phone sounds. Is that my alarm already? How many mojitos did I have last night? Ugh. I crack open one eye and peer over the pillow mound my nose is pressed into. Around me, the light is streaming in. How did the morning come so soon? 5:15. 5:15??!! My alarm isn’t set that early. I pull my arm from under the covers and swat for the phone. Flip it open. Still, there is only one eye open. It’s a text. Who in heavens is texting me right now? Both eyes open. Head rises slowly.

Houston…the boy has responded.
He remembers me. Good.
He wants to see me. Super.
No signature. Shit.

So this situation is becoming a bit of a prickly pear. I can’t really go through with this meet up if I don’t figure out his name. How would that evening go?

“Hey yooouuu.”
“It’s so good to see yooouuu.”
“Yooouuu, thanks for driving three hours to see me. It was wonderfully gracious of yooouuu.”

What now? Try the text with signature again? See if he picks up on the hint? But really…why would he? In his mind, of course I would know his name. Who in their right mind would try to reconnect with someone without knowing their name?

Exactly.

— Ballyhoo Backcaster