When Confined

© 2024 Diane Ascrit

Last week's hidden reference comes from the book The Hound of the Barskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Watson: "You may be right."
Sherlock: "The probability lies in that direction."

Onto to the next chapter and Easter egg ...

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☎️ CHAPTER 5: Things I know about I. ☎️

Since our first conversation on Monday, things had settled down. We had not discussed my secret identity again neither yesterday, nor today: I had sent my notes as soon as I had got home and he had thanked me both times, but we hadn't talked any more than that.

Everything was under control.

He showed no sign of wanting to continue the guessing game and I did not help him in that direction.

Maybe the disease gave him short-term memory loss and he forgot who I was? You keep sending him your notes every day, you idiot, of course he remembers you.

Maybe the disease makes thumbs swell so much that he lost his ability to text? He could still use his other fingers to type.

Maybe it was for the best. After the emotional rollercoaster of anxiety, embarrassment and squealing I had been through, moments of respite were more than welcome.

Who needed turbulences in their lives?

Certainly not me. I preferred calmness and quietness. Yes, calm is good. Calm is better.

Plus it was making my job of staying detached simpler: it was easy remaining detached when there was nothing to get attached to in the first place.

My routine was back on track: going to school, making myself scarce, then heading home, my haven of peace, eating on my bed since my parents still were not here and watching my favourite shows. I was keeping busy and was not preoccupied by his rapid giving up.

Not preoccupied at all.

A ding interrupted my umpteenth binge watch marathon. Still sprawled on my bed, I picked up my phone, thinking it was Millie sending yet another funny meme or my parents sharing pictures of their conferences. I was stunned to see the name of Noah Hanower plastered on the screen.

Noah Hanower: Hey sorry for the silence, they made us undergo countless medical tests, I haven't had a minute to myself

So he had a legitimate excuse, one that didn't involve memory loss or thumb swelling, and that seemed perfectly rational?

I was not expecting that. I had managed to convince myself that he was just not into talking to me, apart from when I sent him my notes, and I was okay with that.

Totally okay.

But now that he was texting to apologize, I couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. A teeny-weeny glimmer of hope.

Me: It's fine, don't worry. Is everyone in your family okay?

Noah Hanower: Yes fortunately, but one of the passengers developed symptoms last night and we had to go through the whole process a second time today

Me: What a hassle

Noah Hanower: You have no clue, and now I'm super behind with school stuff

Noah Hanower: I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about the content you sent me

Noah Hanower: if you have time