I was mortified when I realized what I'd done, for all those reasons I'd listed on the previous page. It's weak. It's pathetic. It seems so sophomoric. And I felt so out of the loop.

Was Luke lying to me? Was Eric lying to me? One of them had to have been. And why didn't I get any stupid say about what I wanted? I had finally figured it out: why didn't what I want fucking matter?

Well. Well?

No answer.

Days later, I got a text from his number: "hey"

Yeah, that was fucking it. Gloriously unceremonious, unpromising, uninteresting.

But I was so grateful he did it, because it meant that I wasn't the last person to make contact any more. What, was I grateful he had the last word? It's not the last word. It's about who gets left standing alone with the phone, wondering if they'll ever write back. So I imagine this: that Luke did know at least one thing about me, ever, in our short one month relationship. I imagine that he knew my mortification. I imagine that he took pity on how horrible I felt, showing all my cards like that. I imagine that he considered how wounded I really did feel at the loss of him, and how extra shitty I felt by embarrassing myself in front of him. I imagine him doing the only selfless thing I ever witnessed him do, which is to fall on the hand grenade for me: to be the Last One Texting, to bear that embarrassment for both of us. If he really was ever as kind as I imagined, then this was, in fact, an act of kindness. It needs o be something. I can't just let it mean nothing.
...Maybe it's better if it just means nothing.