A Friend’s Distress

Posted by VERITAS
“My god you look strung out!”
“I can’t tell you how much this has stressed me.”
“No need—it’s manifest.” In his expression, most of all, which has turned fatigue-lined and jowly, a far cry from its usual perkiness.
And no wonder he’s stressed, given how much, according to him, he valued the smartphone message exchanges he had with his teenage daughter, no matter how trivial many of them were; no matter that in some she told him “Fuck off!” in exactly those words.
The messages that he lost from his phone with a single accidental swipe and/or tap the night before.
“I was hoping someone at the Apple Store Genius Bar could tell me a way to restore them, but it seems there’s none.” He mumbles this holding his head in his hands, then looks up at me with a slight smile. “Unless I can get her to lend me her iPhone, then take screenshots of all of them and send those to myself.” Thinking of this possibility seems to mollify him a bit and, after I wish him luck, our conversation turns to other topics, even as I’m left admiring and wondrous at a father’s love for his daughter.