😊🫢🫤🥲

I’ve found a cheat sheet for emojis so I know that the upside-down smiley face means sarcasm. Texting makes me nervous because I’m not cool enough to ROFL or even to know if that’s still a thing. Does a little heart mean something special if it’s yellow? Yes, apparently good for friendship. I’m staring at my phone watching the dots in a bubble. Then the message: So what are you doing this weekend besides work?

We’ve been trading messages with the neighbors about a fledgling fisher crow that has taken up residence at our front door. It’s banging like a woodpecker between vigorous caws. Adam brought it some worms, and Corinna has consulted her ornithologist goddaughter. We’re a little worried that the local cats will give chase before the fledgling can fly further than our berry bush, but Buddy, the block’s bird slayer, is eighteen and tired.

Erase.

Not much. Send.

I’m living with my parents while commuting to college after a couple of gap years. But I guess I’m not doing much that’s worth relating.

I realize I didn’t ask about Sonya’s weekend. How about u? Plans for the weekend? Send.

Within seconds Sonya types: Under the weather. Netflix. I hope no chills.

So sorry. Erase.

☹️Send.

I should maybe share some movie recommendations, but that could be presumptuous and I could spend an hour deciding what to recommend. What movies do you like? Send.

Thrillers. 

Oh. Not my thing. At least she didn’t say true crime. I don’t get why totally normal people like thinking about serial killer cannibals. That’s probably the name of a band, in fact. Think. Horror-type thrillers or mystery-type thrillers? Send.

Both.

Do you solve the mysteries? My mom does so she’s not allowed to talk during movies. In exchange, my dad’s not supposed to sing over every song on the radio. He’ll even whistle over classical music he’s never heard before. We could have a whole First Amendment free expression jurisprudence constructed out of house rules. They’re both lawyers. Erase.

I am nuts. Why would she care? What can I ask? Any favorites? Erase. I like mysteries if I have a chance of solving them. No horror. Nothing too creepy. Send.

I wait for a reply, but, for all I know, Sonya could be starting a movie or getting to work on the assignment she texted me about in the first place. How do you end a text chain anyway? Do you just toss keyboard confetti until one of you gets bored? Maybe Sonya has been multitasking all along. Maybe she’s with real friends and they’re all laughing at me. I can't let it go, though, so I try to remember the few conversations I’ve actually had with Sonya. Mostly she complains about professors. I could tell her about my ethics professor.

I never told you about Professor Scott. He was checked out all semester in my distance learning class. Introduction to Ethics. Final exam comes around. Question after question about cheating on a partner. Should you tell your friend’s spouse that the friend is having an affair? How do you feel if your spouse cheats on you—and does the gender of the new partner matter to you? If you have the chance to live out a sexual fantasy, and your spouse would never find out—would you do it? How would you react if your spouse were offered $100,000 for racy pictures to be shared on the internet? And on it went. Think he read the answers to his wife to prove some personal point? I had studied Aristotle. I should have read advice columns.

I have a feeling Sonya would love this. But. Professor Scott had amazing student reviews from other semesters. I figure he’s in crisis. The ethical thing to do is probably not to advertise his weird breakdown. Erase.

A new message: You should totally try horror. Like a roller coaster. Very fun.

Loop-de-loops. White knuckles. Organs rearranged. Prayers and screams and teeth almost cracking from the clench and grind of terror. I don’t like roller coasters. Or amusement parks generally. I’d rather walk in the woods. My idea of a thrill is seeing a barred owl swoop between the trees or a fawn having breakfast. I’ve written whole poems about sanderlings. I don’t think Sonya would be impressed. 

He has a sharp knife./Open the door and you’re dead./You know how this ends. Texts should be haikus, but I know I can’t make fun—and poetry is supposed to be dead. Erase. Are you a zombie person or a vampire person? Or just a human horror person? Send. I hope she doesn’t like talking dolls with deep voices and blank eyes.

No one has ever asked me that. Def zombies. 

I cannot believe I led the conversation to this dead end. Literally—to dead people. And honestly, though I really am not invested in this, vampires seem much more interesting than zombies. Was the Count from Sesame Street a vampire? How could I have never asked? Can you imagine a kids’ show with zombies? Okay, focus. I don’t know how to keep this going, but I want Sonya to want to talk to me when I see her again. Is the Count on Sesame Street a vampire? I’m rethinking my whole childhood. Send.

LOL. I think so. 

Then my allegiance is to vampires. The ones who sing. Send.

Ernie or Bert?

Ernie. A sax beats an oatmeal box any day. And a duckie beats a pigeon. Send.

???

Sorry. Thought you were an expert, too. Send.

What else are you an expert at?

Chess variants like Crazy House, Atomic Chess, and Grid Chess. Former President Trump’s legal troubles. Time travel novels. Varieties of apples. Erase. My glory days ended with Sesame Street. I was a very precocious preschooler. Peaked early. Send. 

LOL

I think that’s a touchdown. Not that I’m keeping score. I’ve discovered exactly nothing, though, that Sonya and I have in common. I guess I don’t care. What are your favorite. Erase. Since you’re hopeless at Muppet trivia, how can you redeem yourself? Rude? Erase. You’re on a game show. What’s your best trivia category? Too nerdy? Well, I can’t really hide that I’m a geek. Maybe Sonya needs one geek friend for emergencies. Like when she’s desperate to know all about owls and Google is down and—whatever. Send.

Horror for 100 plz

New message from my brother: On my way home. Studying?

Texting with someone from school. Told you I’d try harder to make friends. Not easy. Know anything about horror movies? Send.

Whoops. That went to Sonya. I’m toast. How pathetic. Sorry. That was for my brother. I admit I’m trying to meet some new people at school. You’re always friendly, but I know we don’t have much in common. Thanks for being patient with me. I should find the embarrassed emoji, but I’d probably pick the wrong face. Send.

I curse my brother, though he’s done nothing wrong. I wish I were better at blame. My attempts always boomerang, and then I have to duck—but I know I’m not making sense. Back to studying. 

New text: It’s the one with little red spots for cheeks. Or you can find a cute head-in-hands meme. I can wait, or you can forget about it.

Wow. She’s actually really funny. She’s giving me a chance, too, but I don’t know how people dig up memes. I guess you can never go wrong with a cat picture. Cat pictures are like cyber currency. And I love cats. Imagine an adorable kitten photo right here. Maybe the kitten looks shy. The thought bubble reads, “Let’s change the subject to cute cats!” That’s the best I can do. Send.

New message: I’m not a cat person. 

You must have imagined all wrong if that picture didn’t win you over. Send.

New message: The cat video thing seems kinda weird.

No way. I went to the movie theater to see cat videos on the big screen. It was awesome. Send.

New message: Agree to disagree.

I have a friend who ended up performing with his band as the opener at the first screening of the first-ever internet cat video fest. Was probably his biggest crowd ever. He’s a dog person but loves to tell the story. Was introduced to all the celebrity cats. It’s a big deal. Not very quippy but a good story, and I get to mention that I have a friend in a band. Helps me look a tiny bit less pitiful—or maybe less pitiable? No wonder I can’t text. Send.

I think I should end this before learning that Sonya also dislikes puppies and rainbows. Have to get back to the books now. See you in class and good luck with the assignment. Send.

Message: Ok. I was actually hoping you could help me write the essay. I’m no good at essays. 

So there was an emergency. Sonya does need a nerdy “friend” to come to the rescue. We’re supposed to do this assignment independently. It’s in place of a midterm. I can maybe talk her through some ideas? Maybe Sonya didn’t read the assignment. Aristotle would probably say that an honorable man would . . .

Message: ???

I turn off my phone. Loop-de-loops. Organs rearranged. No, not for me, thank you. I go out to look for birds in flight.

I spot a cardinal and turn my phone on to take a picture. I read the texts from Sonya that came while I walked.

Sonya: Where did you go?

Sonya: Did I offend you?

Sonya: If you don’t want to help me, just say so.

Sonya: I was just kidding anyway. 

And then I see a cat picture. Three tiny kittens. I have no idea what that means. It makes me laugh. 

One more message: I’m thinking about writing about the Poe story. Horror. You probably couldn’t help with that anyway. I’m totally into the zombie idea I have. Texting with you paid off. What are you writing about?

We’ve just read a famous short story about a bigot who gets high and has a pseudo-religious experience while drawing a cathedral with a blind man. I’ve decided that the story is about loneliness. I could also write about faith or marriage or art, but I’m pretty expert at loneliness. That seems less cool, way less cool, than relating The Tell-Tale Heart to zombie movies. It would be weird to lie, though. 

Me: Loneliness in “Cathedral.” Send.

Sonya: Oh. I totally didn’t get that story. 

Me: I totally didn’t get the Poe story. Send.

Sonya: Prof Smith seems flexible as long as we find a way to relate to the characters. I relate to fear.

Me: What do you have to be afraid of? Erase. I think a lot of people are afraid these days. Erase. Hear anything under the floorboards? Erase. In Pixar’s Inside Out, I think fear was a. Erase. I give up on wit. What are you afraid of? Send.

Sonya: Everything. When are you lonely?

Me: All the time. Send.

DUSTIN DUBY-KOFFMAN

Dustin Duby-Koffman lives in Rockville, Maryland. He writes poetry, song lyrics, and short stories. He has published two chapbooks, Eating Broccoli on the Moon and Dedicated to the Seekers. He has also been published in The Sligo Journal. Dustin’s songs can be found on the album Be Your Own Fan Club.