There are exactly three dots that can ruin a friendship.
They appear inside a little gray bubble when someone is typing.
Disappear when she changes her mind.
Come back when she decides maybe she shouldn't.
Tonight, I watched Wren's do that six times.
Wren is typing...
Gone.
Wren is typing...
Gone.
I should have put my phone down. Instead, I lay in bed with the screen six inches from my face like whatever she was trying to say might change my life.
Wren: You awake?
Me: No.
Wren: Smartass.
Me: You love me.
I sent it before thinking. My thumb hovered over the screen.
There are sentences you can hide inside jokes. You love me was my favorite.
Friends said things like that. Miss me yet? You're obsessed with me. Marry me instead.
Every truth became harmless if I laughed after it.
Wren reacted with a heart.
Wren: Unfortunately
I stared at unfortunately until it stopped looking like a word.
Then another message appeared.
Wren: Can't sleep.
Me: What's wrong?
She didn't answer immediately. I knew her well enough to know what that meant.
Something was wrong.
Wren didn't talk when she was hurting. She became funnier. Louder. She sent ridiculous videos and changed the subject until you forgot there had ever been a subject.
Most people let her.
I didn't.
Me: And don't say nothing. I know you.
The typing bubble appeared. Disappeared. Appeared.
Wren: Sometimes I wish my life was different.
My chest tightened.
Me: Different how?
Wren: Do you ever think about how different things would've been if we'd met earlier?
I stopped breathing.
I typed All the time.
Deleted it.
Typed Why? Do you?
Deleted that too.
Then I sent: You'd still annoy the shit out of me.
Coward.
I hated that she was married.
Not because I hated her wife. That would have been easier. If there were a villain, I could make myself the hero.
But life rarely gives you villains when you need them.
Wren loved the life she had built.
And I loved Wren.
I'd never tell her. I had decided that months ago.
I would be her friend. I would answer at two in the morning. I would pretend photographs of her life didn't sometimes make something ache behind my ribs.
My phone vibrated.
Wren: Can I tell you something weird?
Me: Always.
The three dots stayed for almost a minute.
Then disappeared.
Wren: Never mind. Forget I said anything.
Instead of forgetting, I opened the notes app.
The folder was called Things I Never Sent.
Twenty-seven notes.
I opened a new one.
28.
Wren,
Tonight you asked whether I ever wonder what would've happened if we'd met earlier.
I lied.
Yes.
I wonder whether I would've had a chance to love you before loving you became something I had to keep to myself.
Before I could finish, another message appeared.
Wren: Goodnight, trouble. Love you.
I returned to our conversation.
Me: Love you too
She would read friendship.
I would mean everything