by J. S. Volpe
16
The minute Calvin got home he called Tiffany’s cell phone. She answered on the second ring.
“Hello?” she said. Tinny voices were audible in the background. She must be watching TV.
“Hi, Tiffany? It’s me. Calvin.”
“Oh. Yeah.” She sounded oddly cool and casual. He thought she’d be more pleased to hear from him.
Then he heard her emit a soft grunt of exertion, and the sound of the TV slowly dwindled to nothing. There was a faint thump like a door closing.
“How are you?” she asked, her voice now excited, intimate. He guessed she had been in the living room with her father and had moved to a more private location. “How was your, um, walking tour?”
“It went well. We found a few locations we want to check out in more depth tomorrow. Can you still make it tomorrow?”
“Yes. I made sure I can make it.” She gave a small, shaky laugh. “Panic-inducing though I’m sure it will be for me.”
“It’ll be cool,” he said gently. “Really. They’re good people. Well, except maybe Violet, but we usually just ignore her. Everything’ll be fine. Really.”
She heaved a nervous sigh, the exhalation sounding like a quick blast of static through the phone.
“I know,” she said. She didn’t sound like she knew, though.
“Hey, you met me and Cynthia all right, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, it’s just, meeting new people is always awkward. It’s like discovering new iterations of yourself.”
“Huh?”
“Everybody has their own subjective view of reality, which means everyone you meet will have their own subjective view of you. And not all of them will be favorable. It’s…” She sighed again. “I don’t know.”
“Everything will be fine,” he repeated. “They’re nice people. You’ll fit right in.”
There was a pause on her end, one that went on long enough for him to start thinking he’d lost the connection. But then she said, “Sorry I’m such a basket case, or a head case, or maybe just a crank case. I’m just not used to this kind of thing. People and meetings. Dialogues. Trialogues. For a long time now my social circle has been more or less a dot.”
“Then consider this the first step toward an enlarged and more rewarding social life.”
“Rewarding?” she murmured, her voice almost inaudible over the phone. “Rewarting. Rewording. So shall life. Hn.” Then in a more conversational tone, she said, “What time should I be there?”
“We’re scheduled to meet at five. Does that work for you?”
“It works. It plays. It does all kinds of things.”
“Um, you could stop by even earlier, if you like. I don’t have any plans for most of the afternoon. We could, you know, hang out and get to know each other better.”
There was silence on the other end, and Calvin wondered if the offer had been a touch too forward for shy, sheltered Tiffany.
But then she said, “Hm. I don’t have plans either. Getting to know each other better sounds like a fine way to pass the time.”
Something about the way she said it made him wonder if she meant “know” in more ways than one. He couldn’t be sure if that was her intent, or if his own subjective view of reality was coloring things.
“I’ll be there early, then,” she said in a decisive, businesslike tone that reminded Calvin of her father. “I can’t say exactly how early, though. I have a few things I need to do tomorrow afternoon, and I’m not sure how long it’ll take to get the doings done.”
“I hope you get them done in record time,” he said.
“Don’t worry. I’ll do my darnedest to beat the clock into a horrible, mangled jumble of dials, springs, and numbers.”
“I couldn’t ask for more.”