Remember when this happened? When my coveted Smart Phone took a splash, and my gracious hero gave me his?
We bought a new one for him shortly after, and his phone has been tucked safely into my bedside table for over three months now... since I turned it off on December 23. I was waiting for the day when I might choose to upgrade, to make it my own. A small step, you might believe, but really, a leap of great magnitude.
His phone. His calendar. His stored pictures.
Sure, a Verizon rep can clear those out for me, but I didn't want a clean slate. I wanted what was his; I wanted it to be mine. I wanted to splice our calendars together, the last blending of our two worlds.
But I needed to prepare my heart.
Yesterday was the day. I brought it out of hibernation, and I took it with me to Verizon.
"Welcome to Verizon. How can we help you today?"
"Hi, there. Well, here's the deal. This phone belonged to my husband, and I would like to transfer my contacts and apps to this phone and make it mine."
There is no reason to tell why the phone is now mine. I am learning to avoid this topic with people who don't need to know; the words are too hard to say, and I'm giving my pearls to swine. It only makes it awkward as they try to figure out what to say to this young woman who just explained far more than they expected to hear.
The phone was his. Now it's mine. Let's leave it at that.
"Absolutely, ma'am. Can you tell me your account password?"
My account password. You'd sure think I could. That's an easy thing for a girl to know... unless her husband managed all of her accounts.
What was your password, Robb? What was it?
"Um, let's try this."
I type in my best guess. The one he used for many things.
"Ma'am, if you're not sure, we can simply click 'Forgot Password,' and it will prompt you with a secret question to answer."
"Yes. Let's try that."
Click, click, click.
"What is your favorite flavor of ice cream?"
Not mine. His. It wants to know his favorite flavor of ice cream.
Suddenly, I felt like I was on a newlywed game, where they separate us and ask us a bunch of detailed questions about each other to measure just how well we really know each other, just how deep our true love is.
Ice cream... ice cream.
My mind flashed through a million dates with him, a million desserts.
Cookies and cream? That's what he chose at the grocery store. What he liked to have on hand in the freezer. Breyer's, most especially.
But the man sure loved chocolate peanut butter cup.
And sometimes he could go for a nice bowl of vanilla. With chocolate syrup and whipped cream.
Double Chocolatey Chip Frappuccino was his favorite at Starbucks. Double blended.
But he loved a good root beer float. And a fruit smoothie.
Mint Chocolate Chip? No, that's mine. But he might have chosen that for my phone's account.
He may have chosen any of the above, just to mix things up a bit. But maybe he was craving his tried and true when they asked him to choose a password.
Oh, come on. What is it?? Think, Tricia. Think. You know this man.
"Let's go with Cookies and Cream."
I enter the password.
The spinning wheel on the screen tells me it's thinking, comparing our answers.
And then these words pop up:
"You have successfully answered the secret question."
I knew it. I knew the answer. I knew his ice cream. I knew his favorites.
I knew them then. I know them now.
My eyes well with the tears that are never far away. I answered his question.
Ask me a thousand more.
I bet I know those too.