Grandma: Why aren’t you answering your phone? Beatrice says that young people “lie in” in the morning, but really, it must be ten already in California. Don’t be lazy, young lady.

Grandma: I tried to call again. I am worried, Claire. Call me back.

There’s a total of twelve missed call from her, between yesterday and today. Really! We talked Saturday.

Grandma: I assume that your first day was busy. What I meant to tell you is that I was chosen by an anonymous benefactor who is paying for my surgery, and the follow-up rehabilitation appointments, in full. I told you being GOOD was rewarded by GOD. This is proof. I was BLESSED. I do hope that you take note, Claire. Be virtuous, and good things happen to you.

I laugh out loud. Yeah, right. Your surgery is getting paid because I let a stranger finger me in public, Grandma. A giddy, wild, and frankly unkind part of me wishes I could tell her just that. But she’d die on the spot.

Grandma: Well, it’s not very smart to lose your charger like that. Be more careful with your belongings.

Grandma: Why aren’t you answering?

Ugh. I need another excuse. I decide to stick to the truth, as much as possible.

Me: Sorry, Grandma! Today was a bit full. There was a housing mix-up I had to figure out. I found a place to stay in one of the private houses on campus. They’re sort of like sorority houses. I moved in, and then had dinner with my new housemates. We just finished, and it’s too late to call. I’ll speak to you tomorrow. I found a potential part-time job, so I don’t know exactly what time, but I’ll call as soon as I’m free.

And I really should call her tomorrow.

Next, it’s truly painful, but I made myself run through Noah’s messages, guilt twisting my insides. Just because I decided what we had was finished on Sunday doesn’t mean I don’t owe him a reply. It’s not over for him until we’ve discussed it.

But the thing is, everything about my childish, never physical, always present relationship with my childhood friend died when I learned what it felt like to be touched, to want, to crave, and need. I’ve never had anything close to that with Noah. The thought of letting him touch me that way is laughable, and slightly disgusting.

He doesn’t know that, though.

Noah called thirty-two times in the last two days. A good twenty are today. There are a lot of texts. I only make myself read those that are longer than two words.

Noah: Claire, your grandma can’t get hold of you? What’s going on?

Noah: Wow, first weekend and that’s how it is, huh?