“The sunrise,” I whisper aloud, confused by her response. Sabrina is a night owl, so why the hell is she acting like mornings are her thing?
Me: Don’t mock. It’s not becoming. *insert laughing emoji* *insert fishing pole* *insert birthday cake*
What the hell? How did I do that?
Sabrina: What does that mean? Are you having a fishing party that you’re inviting me to?
I snort out a laugh.
Me: Me? Fishing?
Sabrina: Might be fun… *insert big fish emoji*
Me: I thought you hated to fish. The smell, the worms, the sunburn because you always forget sunscreen.
Sabrina: Do I?
I roll my eyes.
Me: You know you do. Your pasty complexion is no match for UV rays.
Sabrina: I see…
I grab a slice of wheat bread and pop it into the toaster. While it does its thing, I grab the jar of apple butter from the refrigerator and slather it on nice and thick when breakfast pops up. Two bites in, my phone chimes with another text. I can’t help but wonder if maybe she’s just going to bed…
Sabrina: Can I tell you something?
Me: Of course.
Sabrina: It might upset you a little.
Now, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Sabrina has a brilliant mind, but sometimes she acts before she thinks. It’s one of the reasons she lost her job at a clothing boutique in town. Not all customers like being told their new dress makes their ass look bigger than a double-wide.
Me: What did you do?
Sabrina: It’s not so much me, but you…
Me: Me? What did I do, Sabrina?
Sabrina: This isn’t Sabrina.
That gives me pause. Not Sabrina? What does that mean?
Me: I don’t understand.
Sabrina: My name is Rigsby and you texted my phone by accident last night. I don’t know a Sabrina.
Suddenly, I start laughing. I take a bite of my breakfast before my fingers move over the image of the keyboard on my screen.
Me: Ha, ha, very funny.
Sabrina: I’m not joking. My friends call me Rigsby, my last name, and I live in Gatlinburg. I moved here a few years back. I’d happily send a pic, but I know you’re not a fan of dick pics… *insert winky face emoji*
I stare at the screen in horror. No way I’ve been texting some random guy when I thought I was messaging Sabrina, right? I mean, I know I lost all of my contacts when my ancient phone died, but…
And then a picture message pops up on the screen. With shaky fingers, I click on the download and wait for it to complete. When it does, I bust out laughing. There on my phone is a picture of a crotch—covered, thankfully, in cotton sweatpants—and it most definitely isn’t Sabrina’s.
It’s very male and very…large.
And not even hard.
My entire face bursts into flames as I gape at the image. Why is this image of a stranger in sweatpants better than any dick pic I’ve ever received?
Sabrina: Believe me now? I’m sure your friend isn’t sporting… *inserts eggplant emoji*
I can’t stop the giggle.
Me: No, I’m pretty sure she isn’t. I can’t believe I’ve been texting a stranger.
Sabrina: Well, if it makes you feel better, you don’t feel like a stranger anymore.
Weird, it doesn’t. I click on the name at the top of the phone and edit the information. I delete my best friend’s name and replace it with a new one. Rigsby. When it updates, I go back to our text exchange and read it all with fresh eyes. He never led me to believe he was Sabrina, that I can tell. Rigsby spoke to me as himself, just failed to actually confess his real identity.
Rigsby: Well, you probably need some time to come to terms with the fact your new BFF is a hot dude, and I have to head to work. I’ll talk to you later.
Me: You’re not just going to delete me?
Rigsby: Hell no, I’ve added you to my phone. We’re official.
Me: Official what?
Rigsby: Official besties. I’ll get us necklaces after work. Bye!
I can’t control the smile on my face. Why am I smiling? I don’t even know who Rigsby is.
I set my phone down on the counter and finish my cold toast. As soon as my mess is cleaned up, I gather my stuff and head out the door for school. I’m always in my office by seven getting as much done as possible. You never know how many interruptions you’ll receive during a typical school day, both from students and teachers.
The day passes in a flurry of gathering final bids to have the gym floor redone and making sure the bus drivers’ contract is renewed with our transportation partner. Throw in an assembly on making healthy choices and an early dismissal, and I’ve never been happier to be pulling into the yoga studio on Oak Street. I’ve been coming here for a little over three years now after attending a class with Sabrina. I was hooked by my first downward dog.
I grab the bag I keep in my trunk with extra workout clothes and head inside the small building. Crystal, the owner, is there to greet me with a wide grin as I slip past a few students congregating off to the side, and head into the locker room. A quick change of clothes and I’m set. My hair is already up, in a no-nonsense bun. It’s my hairstyle of choice during the week, unless I have something lined up.
Like a date.
And even I try to limit those to only when necessary during the workweek.
With my mat and water bottle, I head out and start to stretch.
“I can’t believe I didn’t hear from you last night,” Sabrina bellows as she flops on the floor beside me. “I’m assuming the lack of communication meant it went well, and you were indisposed,” she adds with a giggle.
“That or he was an axe murderer and I was his latest victim,” I whisper-yell as I reach for the toes on my right foot, stretching out my leg.
Sabrina seems to stop and consider it. “Well, considering you’re not chopped into tiny pieces, I take it the date went well.” She gives me her trademark grin.
Exhaling a deep breath, I reply, “No, it didn’t go well.” I glance around and confirm no one is too close. “He whipped out his phone and showed me his dick before we even finished the appetizer,” I huff.
Sabrina’s eyes widen, almost comically, before she bursts into fits of laughter. “Shut. Up. You’re kidding me, right?”
I stretch my left leg, feeling the burn as it spreads from my calf to my butt. “I wish I were,” I mumble, sticking both legs out and reaching for my toes.
She leans in and asks, “Was it a nice one?”
I laugh without humor. “Uhh, no, Sabrina, it was definitely not a nice one. It was…you know what, I’m not even getting into this with you right now.”
“Why not? I want to know the details,” she insists, conducting her own stretches beside me.
“No, believe me, you don’t. It wasn’t a pretty one, Rina.”
She just looks at me with sad eyes. “He was so cute though.”
“Yeah, apparently cute doesn’t equal impressive penis.”
Crystal heads to the front of the room to start our group stretches. Sabrina and I follow along, but I’m unable to focus on anything with my best friend chirping beside me. “I can’t believe you didn’t let me know last night.”
I huff. “I did.”
She glances at me, a confused look on her face. “No, you didn’t.”