since my moving here we've sustained a ridiculously high level of communication that is, i'm quite certain, either a result of or a response to the familial cataclysm that occurred when i lived with donovan.
having identified that, i embrace it. we are healing. slowly. twenty conversations at a time.
my mother and i are at thai with her friends and they're talking about mothers worrying about daughters. this is when debo slyly says in that low tone southern women use when they want you to think they think they're saying something perfectly harmless, when really they know it's studded with thorns: "well, we didn't hear from caroline for two whole days last week."
immediately, like a hand clamping an electric fence, my mind pins down the precise time period to which she's referring.
the space between the agonizing conversation on saturday afternoon where our call was dropped TWELVE times (my parents have cancelled their landline and we're losing our minds!!!) and her missed call at 8:26 a.m. on monday.
in chicago, these were 43 hours in which various katies and i had a baby shower and movie night, and i did bikram, a podcast and slept.
in memphis, apparently these were 43 hours in which my parents assumed i was dead.
to an extent that my father derived comfort from the fact that my 90210 recap posted on monday, thus giving him false hope that i was alive. as debo confided to her friends in the thai restaurant, "he did not know, as i did, that she schedules her posts in advance."
this must have been the point at which she called. 8:26 a.m. on monday, when she left a message so cheery and bright that upon receiving it at work i promptly emailed her, "it sounds so sunshiney where you are!"