I look up to see him staring at me unblinking. What is the look on his face? Confusion? Shock? Is he proud of me? Does he think I’m mental? I look away, wondering, my cheeks burning.
He says nothing.
“It’s like totally out of character for me, I know. I would never do something like this, but I couldn’t not have that book. I didn’t not see my life without that book. I don’t know how to explain it any better.” I stare at the bowl of chips. They don’t move. Neither does Martin.
After a torturously long pause, he mumbles softly, “You keep using double negatives.”
Analyzing my grammar! Are you serious?He is such a dork.
Actually, I get it. When you don’t know what to say, your mind clings precariously to anything it can find that’s solid and grounding. Of course, in Martin’s case that’s the immutable rules of grammar. I don’t respond, because, well, I don’t care about grammar and I suddenly understand that I’ve dumped a truckload of awkward in his lap.
I grab for a chip mindlessly. So does he. We both aim for the bowl of salsa in an awkward you-go-first, no-you-go stare down. We just hang there salsa-less.
“I’ve never seen you this way,” he finally says. He switches his chip into a pointing device, waving it over my body like a scanner. I seize the opportunity for a salsa dip which the resulting bite, happily, prevents me from having to know what to say next.
“You’re really driven by this,” he declares.
His words just hang there while I crunch.
“I can’t explain it,” I finally say. It’s the truest thing that’s been said all day, which helps swing my tone back to resolve: “But I’m not going to let this, whatever this is, slip away.” I stop blinking and we lock eyes.
“I didn’t…” he starts and turns away. “This wasn’t…”
We know each other well enough to understand that some things are too complex for words.
He tries again, “What if your secret person didn’t intend for you to be this intense? What if this mystery person was just set on you having, like, I don’t know, a fun adventure?”
“That’s stupid,” I blurt. “Then they would just... There’s something more. I just know it. I don’t know what it is I know, but I…”
Like I said, better without words.
He stares at his scanner-chip for a moment, breathes deeply and aims for the salsa bowl, and just as suddenly switches modes.
“What are you supposed to do next?”
“It’s in the book.” I motion toward the book which is still in his hand.
He flips the front cover open and I watch his eyes travel around the page, tracking at first and then twitchy, like he’s trying to read beyond the words.
“This is about an app,” he says, pointing. The instructions on the title page indicate that I’m intended to download an app, and then wait for more instructions.
“Yeah,” I say, lowering my eyes. “That’s why I wanted to tell you because it’s taking a digital turn which feels suspicious.”
“I see what you mean,” he says, studying the sloppy blue writing further. “What do you think you’re going to do?”
I’m not sure how to answer. I really want to see where this takes me, but I also would like to not be found face-down in a ditch somewhere, naked. “I’ve given it some thought. I want to run it by you.”
“Okay, go on,” he says with a hand motion and grabs for another chip.
I grab one too, even though I’m about to say a bunch of stuff. I just hold it and wave it around mildly as I talk: “I keep asking myself, why doesn’t my secret admirer just communicate through email, or a text, or a DM or something. I think there are ways to do all of those things anonymously.”
“That’s a good question.”
I hesitate, like I’m afraid to think aloud. “I think it’s because she’s not a creepy stalker. I think my secret admirer wants me to let her know that I’m interested in being contacted. It’s like I’m sending a message back by actually downloading the app.”
Martin stares at me a long while, something painful at first and then a smile, before finally turning away.
I look away too. I think I might be so driven by this adventure, that I’m losing touch with reality. I try to expressthis: “Does that make sense, or am I losing my mind?” I look back at him.
