The Call by Tyler Mower
Unlike in the short story “Round About” I will include the background for this current story at the bottom. I hope you enjoy The Call!
The Call
His feet had the jitters. The rising and falling of his shoes went tap, tap, tap, tap on the tan titled floor. His feet alternated the beat left, right, left, right. Repeated over and over. The motion and sound caused him annoyance, so he stood. Standing caused the jitter to move from his feet to encompass his legs.
He paced the hallway. Back and forth, back and forth. He walked ten steps to his right then turned around and returned twenty steps. His chair, at least the one which seemed to offer the most reassurance, remained the center point of his meticulous procession.
When his pace slowed, particularly each time he turned around, the jitter moved into his left arm raising it into view. For clasped upon that wrist was his ever-faithful watch.
Glancing at its circular face, the glistening hands reflecting the dim light from the recessed lighting above, he noticed that the time had only progressed by seconds since he last checked. He scratched his shoulders then propped his chin in his palm and popped his neck, first on the right then on the left. The popping released some of the jitter. He felt a sliver of calm and a bit more composed.
Reaching the fulcrum of his pacing trail, he sat down. He looked at the clock on the hallway wall opposite him. It read the same time as his watch. Three minutes had passed since he had first stood. That made it twenty-two minutes to the top of the hour.
“That's not an ideal time” he thought. “Fifteen-to would be better.”
The tapping of his feet began again.
Distraction is all he needed. Staring at the tile, he tried to find images or patterns in the texture of the tiles. This failed in derailing the true train of thought which so occupied his mind.
A more robust strategy was needed. Across the hall and too his left was a large open lounge area. Silently he began counting the seats. The total was forty-five.
“That’s a good omen!” he thought.
He looked at his watch. The minute hand was only on forty-one. Thinking the watch might be slow he looked at the clock on the wall. It read the same time.
“That leaves four minutes to the lucky minute forty-five,” his excited brain mused.
Time to plan what to say. He tried to focus, but the incessant tapping of his feet hindered all coherent thought processing.
He stood up.
"I can't think standing still," he thought.
He paced.
Unconsciously he took the same path he had taken before. This path his legs knew with certainty and certainty was known and calming. As he paced back and forth, his hands gestured emphasizing the thoughts his mind was piecing together. A passerby would think he was preparing a motivating speech.
One of those arm movements brought his left wrist at the level of his eyes. Glimpsing the watch his mind immediately wondered at the time. He focused and read the circular face. The long hand covered the forty-five the second hand trailed by fifteen tics.
His mind raced. "I missed the ideal moment of minute forty-five," he thought. "After all, seconds are just as important as minutes. The best moment of minute forty-five is by far at the beginning. It's more courteous. Besides now it's closer to forty-six than forty-five. Best to wait till minute fifty. That would be better anyway,” he resolved.
His position on his pacing path put him next to his pitstop.
He sat down.
He pulled out his phone. Unlocked it with his fingerprint. Went to contacts. Searched in the N's. There she was. Even her name made his heart skip a beat. He tapped on her contact info. Her name and phone number were side by side. All he had to do was push call.
"What if she's in class," his mind questioned. "She won’t answer if she's just ending a class. Maybe the class is going over a little. Best to wait until fifty-five. Besides, if she's in a class, she'll be out by fifty-five and if she has a class right after she won't be there till the top of the hour anyway, so I’ll have at least a five-minute window."
He quickly closed out of contacts so as not to accidentally call prior to the most logical time.
He tried to relax.
He sat calmly in the chair. He consciously breathed in through his nose and out his mouth. This was repeated ten times, the number of times his mother had told him would calm him down. He felt calm, but his hands had become sweaty. His feet tapped on the ground. He searched for the confidence in his heart. “Of course, she would accept.”
A guy and girl walking down the hall took up two chairs to his right.
"Cripes, I can't call her with those two right there in ear shot. Everyone can recognize an ask out call."
He looked at his watch, fifty-three.
He looked at the clock on the wall. “How did it jump to fifty-four!”
He had to find somewhere a bit more secluded, but somewhere natural and relaxed.
He stood.
He began walking to his left. He took out his phone in rhythm with his steps. He unlocked the screen, went to the contacts, searched in the N's. There she was. All he had to do was push call. He was walking.
“Where had everyone come from?” The halls were now crowded. Voices, conversations, the sound of hundreds of footsteps with their varying shoes creating the hourly symphony of interclass traffic.
He spotted a secluded corner. He moved towards it. He looked at his phone. Fifty-five was just being covered by the big hand. By its own will his thumb lifted and tapped down on the screen of his phone.
Dialing.
His heart stopped.
No, it was his hand that stopped. "Idiot! Put the phone to your ear!" his mind screamed. His nerves and muscles seemed to be in a winter freeze, but he managed to put the phone to his ear.
At least he was walking, if one counts circles in the secluded corner.
Ring.
Masses of people still filing past. His heart, hopeful.
Ring.
Eternity seemed to pass between the first ring and the second. A moment of silence between the reality that no one had answered. Yet, in the second silence was the anticipation that another ring would not sound, instead an angelic hello would ring out.
Ring.
“Hmm. Three rings. The signal of warning. Three taps, three whistles, three gunshots. It's used in countless movies.” The dreaded feeling of rejection entered his mind.
Ring.
Relief washed over him. Had she answered between the third ring and the fourth no good would have come of it. A second wave of hope hit like a runner getting his second wind. Confidence returned.
Ring.
“It's inevitable. By her female intuition she knows it's me and is feigning inaccessibility to her phone.” In the momentary silence his mind unleashed a dissertation, “She will give me the runaround, which gives me the hope of seeing her, when in reality her intentions are to save my feelings from rejection. The reality being that the runaround is far more hurtful than a quick no thanks.”
Ring.
“I might as well hang up rather than face another voicemail.” Instantly his mind flooded with past experiences. “Voicemail is no better than ‘the file’ for job applications.”
Ring.
Again, that eternal silence. The void between phones. That space of blackness...
"Hello."
Silence. Not because of a bad connection, not because of her, but because of him. His mouth hung open. His own hello caught in his throat.
“She answered!” He was talking with her! Hope surged throughout his body. "Don't stall, speak you imbecilic," shouted his mind.
"Hello!” He stammered. “This is John, we met last night."
"Oh, yeah! How are ya?"
He couldn't remember a point from their conversation that night. Except that his heart was pumping the entire time and that her voice sounded like an angel. The conversation had only lasted maybe five minutes.
He tried his best to sound relaxed, confident, and normal, but was sure he came off as a complete nincompoop. Somehow, despite his fumbling for words and, to his utmost embarrassment, a puberty crack in his voice, she had agreed to go out with him that coming Saturday evening.
Getting the date wasn't as easy as that. He originally asked her out for Friday, and his heart had fallen when she said she already had plans that night. His mind had drawn a quick blank. Her answer to Friday had completely foiled his plan. His mind raced for possible alternatives.
She recognized the split second of silence. No doubt wondering why it is that guys can't have a plan B on hand. She recalled the shy charm she had seen in him the night before and thought, “Just maybe this poor guy mustered all his courage for this call.” So she came to the rescue.
"I'm free Saturday evening after 6:00, if that will work?" she offered.
He agreed to the terms and adjusted them to 6:30. The location of where to meet was arranged. His goodbye was courteous, but hastier then she anticipated or had hoped for. His strategy was to end the conversation before he could make a fool of himself.
"Fate has smiled on me," he thought.
He looked around and noticed the crowd that had engulfed the hall was significantly diminished. He would be late for his next class. But it was worth it. As he started down the hallway he walked with a sprint in his step. His mouth upturned across his face in joy. He could not wait for Saturday.
Though his body language hinted at a wonderful victory, his mind was deep in thought. He was not concerned. After all, having achieved a date with such a woman as her, nothing would keep him from showing up Saturday night at 6:30. Nevertheless, he now needed to find someone to cover his work shift.
Hope, Concern, & Frustration of Dating
The story The Call is a fictional story based on a multitude of personal experiences and a compilation of conversations regarding the hopeful and frustrating dance of dating. I sought to fill it with the second-by-second thoughts that ofttimes ran through my mind when I sought to ask someone out on a date.
I am no Casanova. When I was 19 I was serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Sao Paulo, Brazil. One evening a group of us missionaries were predicting how fast each would get married following their return from the mission. All guesses were within a four year timeframe. The group agreed that I would be hitched within six months. Oh how I proved that wrong. I got married eleven years after I returned home.
That timing was not by my own design. Indeed I had gone out with many women hoping to find that special someone. The problem was is I was terrible at dating.
Dating as a 4 Course Meal
Let’s compare my dating to a high end meal. For starters I had no idea how to approach women. Oh how often I wanted to approach someone - in the halls on campus, in a class, walking through the mall, a server at a restaurant, at the movies, in the climbing gym, etc., but never got up the guts to do so. I convinced myself that I was waiting for the perfect moment, not knowing that I was the perfect moment.
When it came to appetizers I couldn’t see a flirtfull conversation if one was speaking with me face to face. My mind was far too literal and not playful enough. I viewed dating like a job application rather than an opportunity to have fun, get to know someone, and just have a good time. I was too focused on a date turning into date number two, three, four, into engagement, and on to marriage. Instead I should have hit the breaks, enjoyed the moment, and linguistically danced to create sparks. Sparks, after all, are really just connections.
In comes the main dish. Did you know that you can have a terrible experience on a date and still have a wonderful date? I did not. Dates had to go perfect, no hiccups, no unexpected mishaps. Should anything go awry obviously it meant that things were not to be. I was like an event planner trying to give a once in a lifetime experience rather than focusing on the moment we had together. The art of taking moments for what they provided and having fun with them hadn’t developed in me yet (reread the appetizers section)
For dessert I was so in my head about proximity and touching that I couldn’t bring myself to brush against their side, hold a date’s hand, and forget a goodnight kiss. For some reason I tried to awe and woo by the merits of my experience, expertise, hobbies, interests, and referrals. I was still under the impression that I was applying for their acceptance. I had to prove that I was a good pick. I had not learned the importance of incorporating all the blocks of a healthy relationship: emotional, social, intellectual, spiritual, and physical to name a few. My lack of ability to connect beyond intellectual conversation probably left my dates wondering why they had ever accepted to go out or perhaps left them with a shattered void of desire.
Check please, time to move on.
Dating Help
My group of friends were not zealous daters, nor did any of us really ever talk about our dating hopes, how dates went, or how we could improve. We relied solely upon our own merit and ability to figure it out on our own. Such circumstances, of course, is a dating course destined for disaster unless luck, fate, and star alignment are in your favor.
I wish there had been a class about the art of dating. Something with a syllabus that covered:
How to approach someone you are interested in
The art of conversation
Creative Dating: how to have fun and get to know each other
Touch and intimacy
Navigating post-date communication
How to move on
Becoming a ten: confidence, trust, respect and purpose
Sadly I never found such a course, neither did I buddy up to those who knew how to navigate dating and learn from their experiences, nor did I do well at identifying and applying lessons from my own experiences. Thus year after year I walked a hopeful yet frustrated road of dating. I went in and out of being committed to dating and times were I denounced dating at all costs. Regardless of where I landed on that spectrum, someone would inevitably cross my path that caught my eye. Sometimes I would even seek to ask them out either in person or via the phone. Each time my heart raced to a stop, my hands clammed up, and my brain became a train wreck of thought.
It was those three aspects that I sought to highlight in “The Call.” As I had always been, when the time for a data approached, my hope for a wonderful and spark filled night kept me in the game.
What has been your experience with dating, especially when it came to asking someone out?