"I hear nothing, not even a sound on the streets…. Just the beat of my own heart. I have mail. From you."

Chaos in the morning. Chaos all the time.

"Come on, sleepyhead. Wake up. Time for school."

"No, Mom."

"Yes, Daughter."

Norma Bates kissed her almost four-year-old, Amanda Romero, on the cheek, but Amanda refused to open her eyes.

"No, Mom. Five more minutes."

"You said that five minutes ago. Come on, I made your favorite."

Still with her eyes closed, Amanda nonetheless showed a small sign of relenting. "Blueberry pancakes?"

Norma smiled in satisfaction, knowing she won. "With lots of whipped cream."

Amanda's eyes shot open and she giggled. "Who are you and what have you done with my mom? She never lets me have whipped cream."

Norma chuckled. "That was just to get you wake up. You still have can't whipped cream."

"Dirty trick, Mom. I'm telling Dad."

"He'll be on my side," Norma said, ignoring the pang of pain in her chest. "Now get up."

Amanda loved to try to be independent, but Norma still had to help her get dressed. She had to hold the wool stockings for Amanda to put her legs in and she patiently aided her frustrated daughter in fastening the buckles on the little sandals. With Amanda dressed and ready for the day with a clean face and clean teeth, mother and daughter went downstairs to the kitchen to eat pancakes. Norma poured her homemade jam, made from real fruit (no preservatives and nothing processed) on the pancakes. She hated to use something like syrup, which in her opinion was as bad as eating a bag of sugar. Luckily for Amanda, Norma's jam was delicious.

"You know your dad's gonna pick you up today because it's Friday and it's his weekend to have you," Norma informed her daughter, sadly. The house was always so quiet and lonely without her daughter.

"I know," said Amanda happily. She loved it when her dad picked her up at school in his Sheriff SUV. All the kids at school were impressed that her dad was a "police man."

After Norma dropped Amanda off at preschool, she went to the motel office to check on the day's work. The Bates Motel was actually doing quite well and had been for some time, thanks to an aggressive social media campaign and revamping of the website, all strategies pushed on Norma by her son Dylan. Dylan had taught her a lot about hashtags and online advertising. Even with the bypass leading mainline traffic away from the motel, the Bates Motel became a kind best kept secret hideaway for people who preferred the older, quainter, off the beaten path part of White Pine Bay. The biggest competition, King's Inn, was in the middle of town and attracted some shady elements. The Bates Motel, by contrast, was known to be run by Mrs. Bates, who had a reputation for being kinda nutty, but she was so pretty and always so pleasant. So business kept coming in spite of that damned Lee Berman Bypass taking daytrippers from Portland to those grotesque mini malls and outlet stores Norma detested so much; and thus Norma was able to hire two employees part-time, an evening shift desk clerk and someone to clean the rooms. Norma herself manned the desk while Amanda was at school.

In the office alone now, Norma revved up her laptop and went to check her email. She had a few email addresses. There was manager at batesmotel dot com for business; there was normabates at gmail for personal and day-to-day things like Amanda's activities; and finally there was maybethistime at gmail which only she and one other person knew about.

Two years ago, Norma had met xelaromeo on twitter, one of the many social media platforms Dylan pressured her to join and master for the sake of promoting the motel. Neither she nor xelaromeo wanted to reveal real names. Norma had made two accounts, one where she was officially the owner of the Bates Motel and another where she could just browse her feed and send direct messages to xelaromeo anonymously. Eventually, the two decided to exchange emails instead. Without knowing exactly what kind of business she owned, he occasionally gave her generic advice, always solicited by her, the kind of tips you might give any person who is just trying to balance cost and benefit. He was always a gentleman. Norma loved having a person to air out ideas to and not have to worry about judgement from having too much emotional connection to the person. Xelaromeo was an objective outsider. He took her at her word. He assumed and believed the best about her.

Fake email addresses. Made only for each other.

Norma kept all of his emails. She checked it every morning and every morning there was a new one.

Dear Maybe This Time,

It's my weekend to have my daughter at my house. Let me tell you a bit about what it's like to have her at my house. First, I pick her up from preschool. I put her in the booster seat in the backseat. She's not quite four. She smells like crayons and finger paint. She tells me everything that happened from the time she woke up to the time I drove up to the school. Did you know that I'm married? Did I mention that? My wife and I are separated. We separated a long time ago and for some reason just don't get around to drawing up divorce papers. I think it's because neither of us wants a divorce. I know I don't. I keep hoping she'll take me back. Sometimes I think she might. And then she doesn't. I go back to hoping, longing. I've never told anyone this. I don't really have friends. There is a coworker of mine. We talk sometimes but we seldom go into many details. We give each other advice here and there, when the other asks for it. I told him a little about you. Don't worry, friend. I don't know much. There wasn't much to tell. He knows we only know each other on the internet. He knows you own a business. We've started trying to guess what kind of business it is. It's become a game between us. Something to banter about in the office. He is convinced that you run a bookshop. I imagine it's a cafe, or a catering business, because you talk about food a lot. So long, my friend.

XR

Norma's heart beat wildly as she read the entire email three times. He talked about her to his friend! He talked about her in his real life! There was a lot to digest here. They had so much in common. Both married, but estranged from their spouses. A daughter in preschool. Could it be Alex? No, Norma told herself. Ridiculous! Alex didn't use social media. His only email was his sheriff email. He never talked about anything with any of his coworkers, all of whom were his inferiors. He didn't have friends. And he most certainly did not wish to get back together with Norma, or so she thought. Besides, Norma had formed a rather elaborate idea of XR being a big shot in New York City. Hence all the useful business tips he gave her. She imagined him having a big dog too, like a golden retriever that was his best friend in the world. If Alex ever got a dog (and Norma hoped he wouldn't, although Amanda wanted a dog) she imagined him having a more "police-like dog" (her words, to herself only) like a German Shepard or maybe a Rottweiler.

Rania, the motel maid, came in wearing her uniform and ready for work. Rania was a young girl, barely out of high school, and a part-time student at Trout Lake Community College. She lived with her parents. She was a hard worker and, despite her cynical attitude, a great listener and a good person whom everyone liked having around.

"Hi, Norma, I'm sorry I'm late. Did you get my message?"

"Yes, I did. It's ok, Rania. First time for everything."

"You really are the best boss," said Rania sincerely. "I won't be late again. I stayed with my brother last night and he lives a bit farther out. He broke up with his girlfriend and really needed to talk it out."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I never really liked her. Personally, I'm glad it's over between them. I think he can do better."

"Spoken like a loving sister who wants only the best for her brother!"

Rania smiled. "Yeah, I guess so. He's a sucker for a pretty face, though. Like most guys."

Norma smirked. "Well, now we can't be too harsh on mankind. We womenfolk like a pretty face as much as any man."

Rania was amused watching Norma busy-body around the office. Norma even picked up a crayon off the floor and smelled it dramatically as if inhaling the scent of a rose.

"School supplies in the fall! Aren't they wonderful, Rania? My daughter. I love taking her shopping for new school supplies. I bought her a new set, with 200 crayons. Imagine 200 colors! She drew a picture for me everyday this week, except this morning, because she drew one for her father."

Rania frowned. "Sheriff Romero pulled me over for speeding the other day."

Norma laughed. "Rania! Why were you speeding? Don't speed through life. You'll miss it. Did he write you a ticket?"

"No. I wasn't going much over the limit. I explained that I was on my way to work and he seemed impressed. He told me to be careful, drive safely, and he let me go."

"That was nice of him," Norma said, surprised that Alex had been so lenient.

"Yeah, I think it was just because I work for you."

Norma rolled her eyes. "That's ridiculous. Alex doesn't do favoritism."

Rania shrugged. "I suppose it had more to do with the fact that the election is less than two months away."

"So cynical, Rania!"

"OK, Norma, what's going on with you? Why won't you stop smiling? Not that I don't love it."

"Oh, it's nothing."

"OK, you know what, I'm just gonna stand here until you tell me. Because there are only two rooms I need to clean today and it doesn't look like anyone has checked out. So I've got lots of time and, remember, you pay me for my time."

Norma stopped busy-bodying and looked at her young friend. On the surface, Rania looked like any other barely 19-year-old. Put aside the cleaning maid's uniform and her pigtail braids. But there was something wiser than her years about her. Norma always got the feeling Rania was some sort of empath, like she could feel what others were feeling even if she barely knew them.

Norma signed. "OK. Rania? Is it a relationship if it's only online?"

"Have you have sex?"

Norma was shocked by the question. "No. We only know each other online."

"I meant cyber sex."

Rania shook her head, knowing by Norma's face that the answer was no. "You know what, don't do it. As soon as you do, they lose all respect for you."

"Well, it's not like that," Norma assured her. "On top of which, I'm thinking about stopping because it's getting…."

"Out of hand?"

"Confusing." Norma shook her head and pretended to wave the dilemma away. "But not. Because it's nothing."

"Where'd you meet him?"

"Oh, you know, I can't even remember," she lied.

Rania knew a lie when she saw one, especially from Norma. Norma was the worst liar. Ever.

Sheriff Alexander Romero spent most work days alone in his office, doing paperwork and computer work. He had deputies to do patrols. Sometimes he filled a vacuum to do patrols himself, alongside a deputy, but usually he was in his office. His favorite deputy, Jeffcoat, happened to be in his office at the moment, briefing him on some open cases.

"Sheriff?"

"Hmm?"

"I know you're not listening to a word I'm saying. You got a new email, didn't you?"

Alex broke out into a crazy smile. Jeffcoat laughed. "Sonofabitch, you're in love with a phantom."

"Jeffcoat, you're lucky I like you."

"Sheriff, with all due respect, you spend an awful lot of time thinking about a woman you know nothing about and whom you're unlikely to ever meet in person."

"Deputy, with all due respect, it's not your concern who I think about."

"Fair enough. I'm gonna go file these reports."

Jeffcoat left him alone and the first thing Alex did was pop open his laptop. He went to his private email and, lo and behold, there was the one thing to make his heart skip a beat….

Dear Friend,

I like to begin my emails to you as if we're in the middle of a conversation. I pretend that we're the oldest and dearest of friends instead of what we actually are: people who have never met and who met in a twitter thread of a tweet by a president we both claim to have not voted for. (I did not, you say you did not! I hope you did not!) Do you have any idea how much your messages mean to me? I get up. I have coffee. I wake up my daughter. She's the same age as yours! I cook breakfast. We eat together. I take her to school. I come home. I go to work. My business is right next to my home. Did I ever mention that? I open my laptop. What will XeloRomeo say today, I wonder. I turn on my computer. I await impatiently as it boots up. I go online and my breath catches in my chest until I see the bold type of a new email.