It was around 7:13pm when the phone rang and Dell,
nervous tingles racing up and down his spine, picked up the
receiver.
"Hello?"
"Dell? Hey, it's Rian."
"Hey! What's up?"
"Sorry it's so late, I had to finish this paper and I
just now got it done."
"Oh that's fine, I'm just hanging out," said Dell, who
had not been calmly hanging out, but rather had spent the
afternoon adjusting the minutia of his appearance. "You
still want to do something?" he asked, as though any
response would have been all right.
"Sure, yeah. You want to get something to eat? Did
you already eat?"
"No, not yet."
"Do you want to come here and then we'll go? Or do
you want to meet somewhere – I could meet you somewhere."
Both parties were really good at this.
"Uh, sure, no I'll come get you. How do I get there?
You're in for a treat, you know. You've never ridden in
the Relica. It's really quite the carriage," he said,
satisfied by his wit. The "Relica" was the name of his
1987 Toyota Celica, which was beige and somewhat
unreliable, but unconditionally loved.
Directions were given. Plans solidified.
Explanations were offered regarding the word "Relica."
Phones were returned to their recharging base-units.
Cologne was lightly sprayed. Nerves were elevated, and
Dell's propensity for heavy sweating influenced his final
wardrobe change. He settled upon a long-sleeved, dark-blue
zip-front sweater, chosen for its special ability to
conceal perspiration.
"Look, Dell," he spoke to himself in slow, soothing
tones, "Just relax and be normal. Be yourself. That's
what people want. They want real, normal people who are
honest and who are not always trying to impress them."
This is actually pretty true, though it did not reassure
Dell in the least.
Rian lived in an early 1980's ranch-style suburban
home about 11 minutes from Dell's house. It was lighter
beige than the Relica, and it looked quite pleasant, with
slender young maple trees in the front yard and what
appeared to be a poplar peaking over the roof from behind.
The clouds had drifted in since the afternoon and the air
had the clammy, unsettled feeling of impending rain. It
was one of Dell's favorite meteorological conditions.
Dell walked as confidently as possible up the exposed
aggregate walkway, trying his best to be normal. He
deliberately followed its curve to the left around a
Japanese maple, as if staying on the path secured his
position as a reasonable and responsible date.
1. The doorbell
2. Sounds of the family dog
3. The voice of a girl amongst others
4. Footfalls making their way onto the hardwood floor of
the entry-way.
The tense ritual of waiting at a strange door is as
familiar as it is unpleasant. He knew he would have to
come in and meet parents and probably have some difficult
encounter with the dog where he would reassure everyone
that the dog was just fine (even though it had jumped up on
him and got some saliva on his belt). No, the dog was cute
when it was "so excited", and he didn't mind a bit. He
would wash his hands later.
What am I doing here? I don't even know this person!
Take a deep breath.
Rian was at the door. She smiled and lost her hold on
the door as the dog pushed his way into the space between
the doorjamb and the semi-open screen-door.
"No! Humphrey! Come here!" she implored, grabbing
the red leather collar around his neck. "Sorry, he just
likes to know who everybody is, don't you Humphrey? He's
really nice, he won't bite or anything. If someone broke
in he'd probably just want attention from them."
"That's fine, I don't mind. Um, should I come in or-"
"Sure, come in."
The glass screen-door banged shut behind him, so to
make amends he very gently closed the front door with as
little noise as possible. He didn't really know if it was
his job or not. He wandered into the kitchen. Humphrey
sniffed and repeatedly tried to jump up, receiving rebukes
for his efforts. Dell didn't have pets.
He met everyone. They actually seemed pretty nice and
pretty normal. Humphrey provided a much-appreciated social
lubricant, as pets and small children often do. All in all
the time spent in Rian's house equaled about 6 minutes, and
then they exited and settled into the Relica's plush faux
fur front seats.
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YOU ARE READING
Dell's Journey
FantasyThere comes a time when every man must go on a journey. This is Dell's story.