Prologue
Prologue
September 15
HANNAH (6:00 PM):
Hey. Fox?
FOX (10:20 PM):
Yeah.
H (10:22 PM):
It’s Hannah. Bellinger? I got your number from Brendan.
F (10:22 PM):
Hannah. Shit. Sorry, I would have answered sooner.
H (10:23 PM):
No, it’s fine. Is it weird of me to text you?
F (10:23 PM):
Not weird at all, Freckles. You make it back to LA safely?
H (10:26 PM):
Not a scratch on me. Missing that signature Westport fish aroma already (only half
kidding). Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for the Fleetwood Mac record you left on my sister’s doorstep. You really didn’t have to do that.
F (10:27 PM):
No big deal. I could tell you wanted it.
H (10:29 PM):
How could you tell? Was it me openly sobbing when I left it behind at the expo?
F (10:30 PM):
Kind of tipped me off.
H (10:38 PM):
Ah. Well. I wish you could hear it play in person. It’s magic.
F (10:42 PM):
Maybe someday.
H (10:43 PM):
Maybe. Thanks again.
F (11:01 PM):
You didn’t have to tell me your last name. There’s only one Hannah.
H (11:02 PM):
Sorry, can’t say the same. I know several Fox’s.
October 3
FOX (4:03 PM):
Hey Hannah
HANNAH (4:15 PM):
Hey! What’s up?
F (4:16 PM):
Just pulled back into the harbor after 3 days out.
F (4:18 PM):
This is stupid, but you’re okay, right?
H (4:19 PM):
I mean, my therapist would probably say that’s debatable. Physically I’m in one piece tho. Why?
F (4:20 PM):
Just a weird dream. IDK . . . I dreamed you were missing. Or lost?
H (4:25 PM):
That wasn’t a dream. Send a chopper.
F (4:25 PM):
F (4:26 PM):
Fishermen don’t ignore the dreams they have on water. Sometimes they’re nothing, other times they’re a premonition.
H (4:30 PM):
If anyone worries in this friendship, it should be me. I’ve seen the Perfect Storm.
F (4:32 PM):
That makes me Wahlberg in this scenario?
H (4:33 PM):
Depends. Can you pull off white boxer briefs?
F (4:34 PM):
And then some, babe.
F (4:40 PM):
So this is a friendship?
H (4:45 PM):
Yeah. Are you on board? (fishing puns, they are happening)
F (4:48 PM):
I’m . . . yeah. So I can just text you whenever?
H (4:50 PM):
Yeah.
F (4:55 PM):
Okay then.
H (4:56 PM):
Okay then.
October 22
FOX (10:30 PM):
Hey, Freckles. What are you up to?
HANNAH (10:33 PM):
Hey. Not much. How can you tell if you have a “flat” tire?
F (10:33 PM):
Why what’s going on??
H (10:35 PM):
My car was making a weird noise, so I pulled over. I’m going to go check if it popped.
F (10:35 PM):
Hannah it’s past ten o’clock at night. Stay in the car. LOCK THE DOORS and call a tow truck.
H (10:36 PM):
Yeah . . . I won’t know how to describe where I am to them. One of the makeup artists at work had a séance. I think I’m in Los Feliz?
F (10:37 PM):
You don’t know where you are?
F (10:38 PM):
This is my dream. It’s happening. Premonition.
H (10:39 PM):
Come on. No way.
F (10:40 PM):
You were just at a séance and don’t get to be skeptical.
H (10:41 PM):
You know what? That’s fair.
F (10:42 PM):
Map your location on your phone and call a tow truck.
F (10:43 PM):
Please?
H (10:45 PM):
Are you this protective of all your female friends?
F (10:48 PM):
You’re the only one I’ve got.
H (10:49 PM):
Fine. I’m calling a tow truck.
F (10:49 PM):
November 22
HANNAH (12:36 AM):
Are you awake?
FOX (12:37 AM):
Wide.
H (12:38 AM):
Are you alone?
F (12:38 AM):
Yes, Hannah. I’m alone.
H (12:40 AM):
Let’s start “Leaving on a Jet Plane” at the exact same time and listen to it together.
F (12:41 AM):
Hang on. I have to download it.
H (12:42 AM):
You’re killing me.
F (12:42 AM):
Sry my phone isn’t a music encyclopedia like yours. Why this song?
H (12:44 AM):
IDK. I miss my sister. A little in my feelings about it. Have you seen her around town?
F (12:45 AM):
I’ve seen her lipstick on Brendan’s collar. That count?
H (12:47 AM):
That’s why I’m bugging you, instead of her. I don’t want to burst their bliss bubble.
F (12:48 AM):
You’re not bugging me, Freckles. Ok ready?
H (12:48 AM):
Yup. Go.
F (12:51 AM):
It’s crazy how much better this song is than I remember. Why am I not listening to this all the time?
H (12:52 AM):
Now you can. Isn’t it amazing?
F (12:53 AM):
Uh-huh. Do I get to pick next?
H (12:55 AM):
Oooh. Okay. Whatcha got for me, Peacock?
F (12:57 AM):
Something to cheer you up. You have the Scissor Sisters in that encyclopedia phone?
H (12:58 AM):
Studio albums or live? Yes to both.
F (12:59 AM):
Jesus, should have known. Start “I Don’t Feel Like Dancin’” in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .
January 1
FOX (12:01 AM):
Happy New Year.
HANNAH (12:02 AM):
Same to you! May it bring you crabs.
F (12:03 AM):
Any resolutions?
H (12:07 AM):
Normally I would say no. But I want to take more risks this year. Put myself out there a little more workwise, you know? Don’t copy me. You are AT CAPACITY on workplace risks.
F (12:09 AM):
How else am I going to get crabs?
H (12:10 AM):
At a restaurant, like a normal person.
F (12:10 AM):
I always order the steak.
H (12:11 AM):
That’s irony for you.
February 5
FOX (9:10 AM):
It’s raining here. Give me something moody to listen to.
HANNAH (9:12 AM):
Hmm. The National. Start with “Fake Empire.”
F (9:14 AM):
On it. Got any plans for this weekend?
H (9:17 AM):
Not really. My parents are in Aspen, so I have the house to myself. I have it to myself a lot lately. I keep expecting Piper to walk around the corner in a charcoal mask.
F (9:18 AM):
Women put charcoal on their faces?
H (9:20 AM):
That’s tame. There is such a thing as a snail facial.
F (9:21 AM):
Jesus. I’m just going to pretend I never heard that.
H (9:28 AM):
Do you have plans this weekend? Heading to Seattle?
F (9:35 AM):
That’s always a possibility.
F (9:36 AM):
But it’s my mother’s birthday. Might just run her over some flowers and say hey.
H (9:38 AM):
You’re a good son. Does she ever come see you in Westport?
F (9:45 AM):
No. She doesn’t.
F (9:46 AM):
Thanks for the music rec, Freckles. Text you later.
February 14
HANNAH (6:03 PM):
Happy Valentine’s Day! Doing anything special?
FOX (6:05 PM):
God no. I’d rather light myself on
F (6:09 PM):
Are you? Doing something special?
H (6:11 PM):
Yes, sir. I’m on a date.
F (6:11 PM):
With who??
H (6:15 PM):
Myself. Very charming. Might be the one.
F (6:16 PM):
Lock that girl down. She’s the kind you bring home to mom.
F (6:20 PM):
Do you want to be on a date? With someone besides yourself?
H (6:23 PM):
IDK. It wouldn’t suck? Unfortunately, my type would probably define this whole holiday as a commercial gimmick. Or he’d buy me dead roses to represent the evils of consumerism.
F (6:26 PM):
That’s a pretty specific type. Are we talking about your director crush? Sergei, right?
H (6:28 PM):
Yes. My sister likes to tease me about pining for starving artists.
F (6:29 PM):
You like them dark and dramatic, huh?
H (6:30 PM):
Careful! You’re going to give me an orgasm.
F (6:30 PM):
If that was the plan, babe, you’d have had two already.
F (6:33 PM):
Shit, Hannah. Sorry. I shouldn’t have gone there.
H (6:34 PM):
No, I went there first. Blame it on the single glass of wine I’ve had. #lightweight
F (6:40 PM):
Apart from being dark and dramatic . . . what makes a man your type? What is eventually going to make a man The One?
H (6:43 PM):
I think . . . if they can find a reason to laugh with me on the worst day.
F (6:44 PM):
That sounds like the opposite of your type.
H (6:45 PM):
It does, doesn’t it? Must be the wine.
H (6:48 PM):
He’ll need to have a cabinet full of records and something to play them on, of course.
F (6:51 PM):
Well obviously.
February 28
FOX (7:15 PM):
How was your day?
HANNAH (7:17 PM):
It had sort of a “Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman feeling to it.
F (7:18 PM):
Like . . . nostalgic?
H (7:20 PM):
Yeah. A little blue. I think I miss Westport?
F (7:20 PM):
Come here.
F (7:23 PM):
If you want.
H (7:25 PM):
I wish! We just started casting a new movie. Not a great time.
F (7:27 PM):
Have you kept your resolution? To take more risks at work?
H (7:28 PM):
Not yet. I’m working up to it, tho.
H (7:29 PM):
Seriously. Aaaany minute now. (crickets)
F (7:32 PM):
This is where I remind you that the first time we met, you were facing off with a boat captain twice your size, ready to tear his limbs off for shouting at your sister. You’re a badass.
H (7:35 PM):
Thanks for the reminder. I’ll get there. It’s just . . . imposter syndrome, I guess. Like, what makes me think I’m qualified to make movie soundtracks?
F (7:37 PM):
I get imposter syndrome.
H (7:37 PM):
You do?
F (7:38 PM):
If you could only hear me laughing.
H (7:39 PM):
I . . . wish I could. Hear you laughing.
F (7:40 PM):
Yeah. Wouldn’t mind hearing your laugh, either.
H (7:45 PM):
How was your day, Peacock?
F (7:47 PM):
Worked on the boat with Sanders, so a shit ton of Springsteen.
H (7:49 PM):
Blue collar boys. Making money! Sweating in jeans! Bandanas in pockets!
F (7:50 PM):
It’s like you were right there with us.
March 8
HANNAH (8:45 AM):
Hey. I think you’re out on the boat.
H (8:46 AM):
Hope you’re being safe.
H (9:02 AM):
When you’re out on the water and can’t text back, I really notice it.
H (9:03 AM):
The lack of you.
H (9:10 AM):
So I’m glad we’re friends. That’s all I’m awkwardly trying to say.
H (9:18 AM):
If you dream of me this time, try dreaming I can fly or turn invisible. Or that my best friend is Cher. That’s way cooler than a flat tire.
H (9:19 AM):
Not that I’m assuming you regularly dream of me.
H (9:26 AM):
I don’t dream of you that often, of course. So.
H (9:39 AM):
Anyway. Talk soon!