Rebecca came into town last week and it's a good thing she did because I miss her and this living across the country business isn't funny anymore.
Her flight landed at 11:55 PM. WHEN IT IS ILLEGAL TO BE OUTSIDE.
She asked me to pick her up at the airport. The moment she asked I assumed that her flight was going to get in at the most inconvenient time possible. Because Rebecca would never land in Salt Lake City, demand that I pick her up from the airport, and do so at a convenient time.
I actually think she called the airline and somehow convinced them to schedule her flight for "whatever time will put out Eli most."
11:55 PM. ON A SCHOOL NIGHT.
I texted her and informed her that I would not leave my home to pick her up until she called me and informed me that the plane landed. Because I was absolutely convinced that if I arrived at the airport at the scheduled time, I would discover that the plane was delayed 27 days, or Rebecca didn't make her flight, or the flight never existed in the first place, or Rebecca never existed in the first place, etc.
GOD HIMSELF doesn't even know what Rebecca is up to. She is the one loophole to his whole "all-knowing" claim.
Nothing that I have ever done with or for or near Rebecca has happened neatly or according to any plan that has ever made sense.
So I waited at home. Sometime, well past midnight, Rebecca texted me:
"I think we landed."
I don't know how someone can be confused on this point. But I waited for further clarification. Ten minutes or so passed before she followed the text up with:
"Ok. We landed."
I got into my car and drove to the airport where I retrieved Rebecca, who talked at me non-stop, 3,000 words per minute, about anything and everything that she has ever thought or thought about thinking in her entire three decades of being a genius who somehow has the brain capacity of 15 human brains.
Then we got home.
I don't know exactly what the topic of conversation was when I heard her say:
Rebecca: Everybody lies. You just have to accept that.
Eli: Right. Wait. What are we talking about?
Rebecca: I mean, everybody tells lies sometimes. Like how I lied to you about the lamp!
Eli: Ok. Wait . . . what?
Rebecca: I lied to you about that lamp. Remember?
Eli: No. As usual, I have no idea what you're talking about.
Rebecca: Remember when I bought you that lamp and you said you didn't like it and demanded that I trek back out into the rain--me, a defenseless wholesome innocent half-French woman--to get you a different lamp so you wouldn't kick me out of the apartment?
Eli: First of all, once again, that is not what happened. You bought a lamp and then showed me a picture of another lamp and asked which one I liked better and I told you I liked the one in the picture better. Then you informed me this was a gift, called me ungrateful, and before I could stop you, you stormed out of the apartment, into the pleasantly-weathered day, walked across the street to the store, and exchanged the lamps.
Rebecca: AGREE TO DISAGREE.
Eli: Anyway, what did you lie about?
Rebecca: Well, you asked me if I exchanged the lamps and I said yes but I had not exchanged the lamps because I just kept the first one for myself because I realized after I bought it for you that I wanted it for myself and the whole reason I showed you the picture of the other lamp was to manipulate you into choosing it so I could keep the first lamp, pretend I exchanged it for you, and look like the hero.
Eli: You evil genius.
The next morning Rebecca left my home and I had that uneasy feeling one gets when it's "quiet. A little too quiet." Because nothing catastrophic happened during Rebecca's stay. And that is very unlike her.
For example, my kitchen didn't burn down. Also, all of the windows and doors were not left open overnight and I woke up with both of my kidneys.
Then, after she was safely at her parents' house, an hour or so away, I realized that she stole my phone charger.
I need you to understand that this was not a simple mistake. This was a complicated and inconvenient mistake.
Sure. Someone can easily grab another person's phone charger and take it with them. This can be a very simple mistake in most circumstances. All iPhone chargers look exactly the same.
But y'all. My phone charger was hidden away in a room Rebecca had no reason to enter, plugged into an outlet that was hard to reach, and her charger was sitting in plain site the entire time.
In fact, I watched her pick up and pack away her own charger five minutes before she left for her parents' house.
And yet, somehow, in those five minutes, she forgot that she had done this. So she wandered into a room she had no business being in, maneuvered her half-French body in very uncomfortable and unnatural ways to reach the outlet, unplugged my charger, and packed it away IN THE SAME FREAKING BAG SHE HAD ALREADY PLACED HERS.
I immediately sent her a very aggressive text:
Eli: YOU STOLE MY FREAKING CHARGER!
Rebecca: No. I only have mine.
Eli: DID YOU CHECK YOUR FREAKING BAG?
Eli: CHECK YOUR FREAKING BAG!
Rebecca: Oh . . . I have two.
Eli: DAMN YOU!
Rebecca: I'm a complication in your life.
I borrowed chargers for a number of days. I felt like Jack Bauer on 24. Like a clock was dramatically ticking and my time was constantly running out.
Then on Sunday Rebecca made it back for a quick visit to Salt Lake City, wherein I demanded that she return my things.
She did so, reluctantly. And then after visiting for a while, drove back to her parents' house.
It was too late when I realized she had returned the wrong charger.
~It Just Gets Stranger