I scoff. “I never picked him up.”

She shoots me a sad smile. “I love you, and I support your random whimsical lifestyle, but, Jamie, you can’t sleep with people on Duck Waterfall and never call them again. It’s gonna mess with our dynamic. He thinks you’re dating. He talked my ear off about you after last week’s practice. You have to call him.”

I pull the top half of my hair up and tie it into a little foof on my head. “Maybe you should take a leaf from my tree and ask out Mona.”

“A leaf from your tree? I’m not dating someone on the team.”

I grin excitedly. “Fine, you should download Tunder or Hunge or whatever people are using while I’m gone, and then regale me with the dating stories when I return!”

Dawn rolls her head and executes a comedic teenage groan.

“You and Danielle broke up like ten years ago.”

Danielle was subtly insulting Dawn and picking away at her self-esteem during the eight months they were together. I didn’t find out until after the fact, and I’m still furious with that woman.

“Ten months,” Dawn corrects.

“Same thing.”

“It’s really not, and like I said, I have a test this week. I don’t have time. Call Aaron.”

Breakups are fascinating. Sad, but fascinating. I’ve found, more often than not, they fall into one of five relationship-ending categories:

a)  partner cheated

b)  partner was a secret asshole

c)  partner had commitment issues

d)  partners drifted apart

e)  partners disagreed on something fundamentally important

I’ve always wondered where my own parents would sort. My money’s on a) Dad cheated. Considering his romantic track record, I think it’s a fair bet. Dawn’s Danielle sorts into b) secret asshole. I don’t participate in relationships, but from Aaron’s point of view this is probably going to sort under c).

I snatch my phone off the dresser, find Aaron Duckwaterfall in my contact list, and press send. Holding the phone to my ear, I pivot to widen my eyes at Dawn. She shoots me a withering look.

“Jamie?” Aaron’s voice picks up on the other end.

“Hey, Aaron, I’m just calling to let you know we’re not dating. You’re cool, but we’re just friends. Don’t make it weird. See you next week at practice!”

“What? I thought, wait, is practice cancel—”

I hang up the phone.

Dawn tsks. “That was fucking brutal.”

“We hung out alone once!”

She hops off the bed. “Get ready to treat me to an I’m leaving you to run the team alone without any notice dessert from a place on my Instagramable list.”

I shoot my BFF a prizewinning smile. “You got it, dude.”

5. Angst and Socializing

SIRI

August 28, Friday Morning

Colorado

I can pinpoint the precise moment my metaphorical ball of life-yarn rolled off a cliff six months ago.