Emergency Contact

by Mary H.K. Choi

He deleted the text.

Whoop whoop.

there were moments—crucial instances—that defined who someone was going to be. There were clues or signs, and you didn’t want to miss them.

Some people’s coping mechanisms were all about festering and secrecy and ruminating until you grew yourself a nice little tumor in your heart with a side of panic attack. Different strokes.

Fiction was fine, but real life was the true freak show.

If a Sam existed, she couldn’t be with a Mark. Not even if she couldn’t be with a Sam. To Penny it made perfect sense.

“I wish I’d thought to make a sheet cake.” He was rewarded with a smile then. A real one.

<3

But how do you make something unreal feel real?

Penny thought of this Korean saying for when you really, really liked something. You’d say it “fit your heart exactly.” Sam fit her heart exactly.

Does he say good morning to her in a way that’s reassuring? To where it feels as if he’s holding her hand for the entire rest of the day until he says good night? Would she be happy for him if his happiness meant that she couldn’t be with him?”

I want to be with someone I can talk to. I want to be with someone who automatically has a fat folder on me. Someone who feels lucky when I tell them the most unflattering, scary stuff.

I miss you. I know we’re basically just a series of texts. But I’m glad that whatever led you to me happened. I’m grateful that you’re my emergency contact.

He wanted to hug her. In fact, he wanted to hug her and then build an electrified fence around her. A fence that was encircled by a moat filled with rabid, starving alligators.

Sam thought of a million cooler things to say, but more than anything he wished he’d kissed her.

Aww.

Romance was volatile, and if they came out of it with less than they had going in, she would be devastated.

“I want us to talk about everything,” he continued. “I don’t want to ever not talk again. That was horrible.”

“What kind of question is that? It’s fucking art, man,” he said, scowling. “You don’t choose it. It chooses you. If you waste that chance, your talent dies. That’s when you start dying along with it.”

“You’re the best person I’ve ever met. And my favorite.” “And you’re mine,”

“I know I love someone when I can’t remember what they look like in any real way. I can never seem to recall whether they’re handsome or ugly or if other people think they’re cute. All I know is that when I’m not with them and I think about them, where their face should be is this big cloud of good feelings and affection.”

Loving someone was traumatizing. You never knew what would happen to them out there in the world. Everything precious was also vulnerable.

I love . . . I like knowing that you exist. It doesn’t make me feel any less lonely, because life is lonely, but it makes me feel a lot less alone.”