Page 5 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Lumberjack
But for the first time in two years, the quiet in my chest doesn't feel like the only thing living there.
CHAPTER TWO
HATTIE
Three months ago, I accidentally texted a stranger about my underwear. Today I'm texting him about the fact that my boyfriend is a cheating sack of garbage, and somehow this feels like the more humiliating confession.
Me:
So remember how I bought the inappropriate underwear for "Brad"
Wrong Number Guy:
I recall.
Me:
Turns out Brad was already seeing someone else's inappropriate underwear
For SIX MONTHS
His coworker Janelle
Who I MET at his company Christmas party
She complimented my earrings and I said THANK YOU JANELLE
I THANKED HER
My classroom is empty. Twenty two tiny chairs pushed under twenty two tiny tables, crayon drawings drying on the counter, the faint smell of glue sticks hanging around like it always does at 4 PM on a Friday. My kids went home an hour ago. My teaching assistant left thirty minutes after that. Now it's just me, a half eaten granola bar, and the man I've been texting every day for three months.
The man whose real name I still don't know.
Wrong Number Guy:
How'd you find out?
Me:
He left his phone on the counter when he went to shower. She texted him. With a HEART EMOJI.
Me:
Then I scrolled.
Which I know is wrong
But also JANELLE???
Wrong Number Guy:
It's not wrong.
Me:
It feels wrong
Wrong Number Guy:
