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!
