After two hours, I got another text:

“omg this uber guy took me to an empty parking lot and said I had to blow him. I screamed and Sugar barked so he did drive me to the airport but I got here too late so missed the flight. Promise to make next one in two hours, kisses”

The woman stood in a gold, oval frame. The frame hung above the small desk in my grandparents’ bedroom for at least since I was born. This was the desk where my grandmother, Nonny, wrote notes and cards and checks. The desk where she kept things like pens and stationary and correspondence and a few important documents.

I had to spend a summer up at the University of Buffalo in the late ’90s. There was an awful course in statistics that stood between me and a Bachelor of Arts degree in English. Incredibly, an actual law school (not an online one with certificate) had accepted me for fall admission, but I couldn’t go without passing this class. Fortunately, I had a few college buddies up there, too, for their own reasons. My friend, Sean, was there with his girlfriend, Zara, and along with my girlfriend at the time, Janine, we all hung out quite a bit.

After two hours, I got another text:

“omg this uber guy took me to an empty parking lot and said I had to blow him. I screamed and Sugar barked so he did drive me to the airport but I got here too late so missed the flight. Promise to make next one in two hours, kissesJ