Jordan is typing... (part 1)

I don’t use Facebook a lot. At most, I may check my page about two times a week, if that. Recently, my best friend from college had a baby and I’ve been trying to follow the pictures and updates, so I’ve started to use the site a bit more.
A few days ago, I was talking to my friend on the chat. Bored, I was browsing through my contacts with the little green dot beside their names. Most of them were people I had known from high school, the small few I had picked up during college, and the even smaller group I worked with. There was one name that stood out to me, though. Jordan.
I knew Jordan from my freshman year of college. We were in the same history class. Through the course of the semester, we became fast friends. During our time in undergrad, the two of us slowly drifted apart. At the end of last year, however, Jordan was killed in a car accident. He was a great guy.
When I saw that his profile was online, I didn’t think much of it at first. I had a cousin that passed away a few months ago due to cancer, but his wife keeps his profile up for some reason. I think she’s still grieving the loss.
I clicked on Jordan’s name, and immediately I could see a small message history we both shared from over a year ago. His profile picture was of him wearing a birthday hat at my ex-girlfriend’s party. I’m pretty sure he was drunk.
The last message I sent him was from April 6, 2012:
“I’m going to bed….talk to u tomorrow.”
But I didn’t. Even though Jordan and I became estranged, we still had lunch when we could and kept up with each other via Facebook. But life took over. I graduated last May and moved out-of-state to take a job. Jordan stayed behind, and he died in December just after Christmas. I wasn’t able to make it to his funeral.
As I scrolled through our messages, small font appeared at the bottom of the chat window:
“Jordan is typing…”
My heart skipped a beat. I thought maybe I was imagining it, but I heard the message alert sound. I watched the text appear.
“Jordan: Hey”
I froze. My brain went into overdrive. It took me a moment to get my fingers working.
“Me: Who is this?”
Jordan began typing.
“Jordan: its me lol”
My pulse was racing.
“Me: Who? Is this Jordan’s sister?”
There was a pause.
“Jordan: It’s me man”
Jordan was typing.
“Jordan: how are you doing?”
I went to Jordan’s profile to make sure that it wasn’t spam. The only thing I saw were posts from Jordan’s friends from a year ago, saddened by his death.
A new message popped up.
“Jordan: u still there?”
I clicked out of the window and stared at my computer screen for a few moments. After thinking about it, I opened the chat window back up.
“Me: is this someone who has hacked Jordan’s profile?”
“Jordan: no its me lol”
I thought it over.
“Me: prove it.”
For a few minutes, the chat was silent. I thought that maybe I had spooked the person enough to get them to leave me alone.
Then a new message appeared.
“Jordan: in our history class freshman year you had a crush on the girl sitting in front of us but u were too scared to talk to her so you tried to invite her to a party and she said no. you swore me not to tell anyone and I didn’t…”
I almost threw my computer out the window. There was an icy chill that stabbed me in the gut. Jordan was right; I swore him to secrecy in the face of my brutal rejection, and he never told anyone. As far as I know.
“Me: You’re lying.”
“Jordan: I swear I’m not.”
“Me: Jordan died.”
Jordan began typing. Then stopped. I waited.
Jordan never replied.
I unfriended Jordan’s account and put it out of my mind. Frankly, I was a little pissed that Jordan had actually told someone about my incident in history class after all.
That was a few days ago. This morning, I woke up to a friend request. When I opened it up, it was from Jordan’s old profile. I ignored it.
An hour later, (1) New Message:
“Jordan: hey…”
Getting pissed, I replied:
“Me: leave me alone or I will report you.”
“Jordan: it is me I swear”
“Me: Jordan died a year ago!”
Nothing. I was about to block him, just as the new message appeared:
“Jordan: yes I did…i need to tell u something”
Something about those words made me uneasy. I blocked the profile anyway and erased the messages.
A few hours ago, I was video chatting with a friend, when the connection started to fizzle out. Expecting it to be my webcam, I logged in and out and started it back up. When I did, the grainy screen took on a life of its own. I was staring at Jordan’s face. It was a pre-recorded message that I had never seen.
Jordan was sitting in his messy apartment. I could make out the ratty carpet I had spent many drunken nights on. There was a Christmas tree in the background.
“I know we haven’t talked much lately, Peyton, but I hope you get this.” My chest felt tight. Peyton. That’s me. My name.
“You’re probably off in the big city doing your own thing, and I know you’re busy, but you should come down for a visit—”
There was a crash off to the side of the screen. Jordan turned around. I watched his front door fly open. Jordan stood up. The video was shaking. It froze. Raised voices cut in and out. In pixelated frames, I watched a shadow enter Jordan’s apartment. Then the screen went blank and my webcam shut off...

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