“E.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. This whole time I’ve been thinking my granddaughter, Lucia, was saying iPad.”
“No,” I said. “She was. You read an e-book on an iPad.”
Mr. Callahan started laughing. “Listen to yourself,” he said, smiling. “You sound a little ridiculous.”
I laughed with him. “Nevertheless,” I said. “That’s what it’s called.”
“All right, so if I get an iPad, I can read an e-book on it that I download from the library.” He emphasized iPad, e-book, and download as if they were made-up words and I was a toddler.
“Right,” I said. “That’s actually quite impressive how quick you got that.”
“Oh, please. I’ll forget tomorrow.” He touched my hand and patted it as if to say good-bye. “Anyway, it sounds like I don’t want anything to do with it. Too complicated for me. I much prefer the real thing.”
“Me too,” I said. “But I don’t know how much longer the real thing will be around.”
“Long enough for me,” he said, and I was struck by the sadness of realizing your own mortality. He didn’t seem sad, and yet, I still felt sad for him.
My boss, Lyle, came by and told Mr. Callahan we were closing.
“Okay, okay! I’ll leave,” he joked, putting his hands up in surrender. I watched him walk out the door, and then I tidied up and sped away to Ana’s house.
What the hell happened?! Start at the beginning. Who is this guy?” Ana said to me. I was lying on her couch.
“Ana, I don’t even know how to explain it.”
She sat down on the ottoman next to me. “Try.”
“On Saturday night I ordered a pizza—”
“Oh my God! He’s a delivery guy? Elsie!”
“What? No, he’s not a delivery guy. He’s a graphic designer. That’s not . . . Just listen. I ordered a pizza but they said it would take too long to get there. So I went down to pick it up and there was this guy waiting too. That was him. That was Ben.”
“Ben is the guy?”
“Ben is the guy. So I notice him, he’s really cute, like too cute for me cute, you know? But he starts talking to me and it’s, like, when he starts talking I just . . . Anyway, I gave him my number; he called me yesterday morning and picked me up for lunch at twelve thirty. It was the best date I’ve ever had. I mean, it was one of the best days I’ve ever had. He says all the right things and he’s so sincere and cute and . . . ”
“Sexy? Is he sexy?”
“Oh my God is he sexy. I can’t describe it, but when I’m with him, it’s like I’m with myself. I’m not worried about anything, I feel like I can say whatever I’m thinking and it won’t freak him out. I’m nervous.”
“Why are you nervous? This sounds amazing.”
“It is, but this is going so fast.”
“Maybe he’s the one. Maybe that’s why it’s going so fast. Because it’s right.”
I was hoping she would say this. I didn’t want to have to say it myself, because it seemed absurd. “No. Do you think?”
Ana shrugged. “Who knows? It could be! I want to meet this guy!”
“He’s really great. I’m just . . . What if I’m getting ahead of myself? He says I’m perfect for him and he likes me and it doesn’t feel like bullshit but . . . what if it’s all . . . ”
“An act?”
“Yeah. What if I’m being played?”
“I mean . . . being played how exactly? Did you sleep with him yet?”
I shook my head. “No, he just slept over and we slept next to each other.”
“That sounds pretty sincere.”
“Right, but what if he’s like . . . a con man or something.”
“You watch too much television.”
“I know I do, but what if he’s a con man? He’s just like this really sexy, really charming, perfect man who figures out your wildest fantasies of being swept off your feet by a man who loves pizza and bribes gelato workers and is an only child and then boom. My money is gone.”
“You don’t even have very much money.”