“You forgot something.”
“I have my keys.”
“Not that.”
“Phone?”
“In your hand.”
“Coffee?”
“Also in your hand.”
“Then I have everything.”
“You forgot yourself.”
There was a pause.
“That was dramatic.”
“It got your attention.”
“I am literally standing here.”
“Physically, yes. Congratulations.”
“Are we doing this today?”
“Apparently. When did you move yourself to the bottom of the list?”
“I’m not at the bottom.”
“Interesting. What number are you?”
“I don’t number people.”
“Convenient.”
“I take care of things.”
“You take care of everyone’s things.”
“People depend on me.”
“So do you.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
Another pause.
There was no immediate answer, which was irritating because conversations with yourself should at least come with the advantage of knowing what the other person is going to say.
“I have responsibilities.”
“Yes.”
“People I love.”
“Obviously.”
“Things that need to get done.”
“Still waiting for the part where you become optional.”
“I never said I was optional.”
“You rescheduled your own plans three times last week.”
“Things came up.”
“They always do.”
“That’s life.”
“No, that’s availability.”
The coffee suddenly became very interesting.
“So what exactly are you suggesting?”
“Nothing revolutionary. Eat before you’re starving. Rest before you’re useless. Keep the plans you make with yourself. Stop handing out pieces of your day like samples at a grocery store.”
“That sounds selfish.”
“Does it?”
“A little.”
“Would you call anyone else selfish for sleeping?”
“No.”
“For going to the gym?”
“No.”
“For saying they already have plans?”
“No.”
“For not answering a message immediately?”
“Depends who sent it.”
“There you are.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“You invited me.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You’ve been talking to me your entire life.”
“Yes, but you used to be quieter.”
“You used to listen sooner.”
That one landed.
“So everyone else just gets less of me now?”
“No. That’s the funny part.”
“What is?”
“They get more.”
“That makes absolutely no sense.”
“It does when you stop giving people the version of yourself held together by caffeine, obligation, and whatever patience survived the afternoon.”
“That version is charming.”
“That version is one inconvenience away from becoming a documentary.”
A laugh escaped before it could be stopped.
“Fine. What happens when someone gets upset because I say no?”
“They get upset.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“I don’t explain?”
“You can if an explanation is actually necessary.”
“I don’t apologize?”
“Did you commit a crime?”
“No.”
“Then probably not.”
“That feels rude.”
“It feels unfamiliar. Those aren’t the same thing.”
The coffee was nearly gone now.
“So where exactly do I go on this imaginary list?”
“Top.”
“Above everyone?”
“Wrong question.”
“Of course it is.”
“You keep imagining the list as a ranking of who matters most. It isn’t. It’s the order in which responsibility begins.”
There was silence for a moment.
“With me.”
“Look at you.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“And what happens to everyone else?”
“They remain exactly where they belong. Loved. Important. Welcome. Just no longer standing between you and yourself.”
“That sounds suspiciously reasonable.”
“I have my moments.”
“So I come first.”
“You finally noticed.”
“Without an apology.”
“Preferably.”
“And if something falls apart?”
“Then deal with what actually fell apart instead of sacrificing yourself in advance just in case.”
The empty coffee cup landed in the sink.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“Of course there is.”
“Your coffee was hot.”
A glance went toward the cup.
It had been.
For once, it had been finished before anyone else needed something.
“Huh.”
“Exactly.”
The phone buzzed on the counter.
A message appeared.
Are you busy?
A hand reached for it, stopped, and pulled back.
“You going to answer that?”
“In a minute.”
“What are you doing first?”
“Making another coffee.”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
“I’m you.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Top of the list?”
A smile.
“First and without apology.”
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