Writing Prompt Wednesday #125

“Do you miss me yet?” From me! My post on dialogue prompts on my instagram, @writerial_ https://www.instagram.com/p/Cd8V39krrpH/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

    My finger hovers over the send button. The world around me looks a tad fuzzy. It sways for a moment before falling back into place. 
    I’m not sure whether it’s the alcohol in my system or the general lack of my self-preservation that made me think that this was a good idea. The two are battling the ounce of self-control still in my head. He’s putting up a valiant fight, but he’s not winning. Anyone can see that.
    My finger hits the screen.
    It only takes a moment for the text underneath to change from “Delivered” to “Read at 1:16 AM”. I watch as the dots appear, go away, appear again.
    “What???”
    I frown. What’s there to be confused about? I once again type my message, though the typos are more apparent this time around. “Do yuo miss mr yet?”
    More dots, then, “Charlie are you drunk?”
    “No,” I type back. “Jusr tipsy.”
    I can practically hear Jamal’s sigh from the other end of the phone. “Charlie, you’ve gotta go to sleep man.”
    “I’m nor tired.” Idiot. Like I’d be texting him if I was tired. “Uyo didm’t answer my quesrion.”
    The dots appear, go away, and then appear again. “I don’t know how you want me to answer that.”
    How do I want him to answer that? Do I want him to miss me? I’m not sure. I frown at my phone. “Idk.”
    “So then I just won’t answer it,” he says. “And you can get some sleep and we can all pretend this never happened, alright?”
    “No,” I reply immediately. “I wanns answer.”
    Dot dot dot. Dot dot dot. They go away, then reappear. The process repeats. I pout angrily at the phone, willing a response to come through. But it seems Jamal is as indecisive as ever. I have to wait for what seems like an eternity before he says, “Don’t make me answer that Charlie.”
    “I’m not naking you do antyhing,” I say immediately. “I miss uyo.”
    “I know.”
    “I likr you a lot uyo know.”
    “I know.”
    “Wht don’t you likr me?” There’s no response to that, so I double down. “I mran, you sais that uyo were curoius so why not mr?”
    I wait. The dots appear, then disappear. “You make me scared, Charlie,” he says. “You make me feel things that I didn’t know that I could feel.” A pause. “Now please just go to sleep. We can talk about this when you’re sober.”
    “I sm sobre,” I say. But I don’t say anything further. I turn off my phone and stretch out on my couch, not trusting my body to get me to my bedroom without falling over. I curl into myself and let myself fall into a deep, restless sleep.