I checked the time and knew Marco should have been mid-flight by now, so his work phone would, of course, be turned off. I called his personal phone, just in case. It started ringing from his nightstand beside the bed I was still lying in.
“Oh, well that makes sense,” I said to myself. As I picked up his phone, I noticed several unopened text messages. I knew I hadn’t texted him, but did I want to cross that line of opening his unread messages? I was very curious, but there’s a line of privacy to respect and I wasn’t sure what would happen if I crossed it. Was someone in his family ill and trying to reach him? Were there important details he needed sent to him from his personal phone? Or even worse, what if he was seeing someone else and hiding it from me? Would these unread messages reveal a terrifying thought of betrayal or someone’s death? It was as easy as the click of a button, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I sat there on the edge of our bed, holding his phone in one hand and my phone in the other. I couldn’t stop thinking about those unread messages, about our empty conversation from the night before—he made me feel like I was just there for his convenience. I wondered if this little device held all the answers. I had always trusted Marco. I never doubted him for a second before that moment, which made this an extremely hard decision for me to make. I was dying to know, but I was sure that if I crossed that line and read his private messages, it would do irreparable damage, or at least damage that I would have to work very hard to get back in his good graces from.
So, I hopped out of bed, brushed my teeth, and headed downstairs to make myself a cup of coffee. I kept both phones side-by-side while waiting for the coffee to brew. I just stared at them. A part of me was hoping he would call me or something. I couldn’t stop thinking, “Do I, or don’t I?”