The Day I Wore Purple

2.1 Paradigm Shifts

2012

May

"Enough computers. We need to talk."

"Enough computers. We need to talk."

With every pull-up, Jon repeated the line aloud and listened for new meaning as he changed the emphasis of the words. "We need to talk. We need to talk. We need to talk."

These two sentences made up the last line of Hannah's most recent email. Did she mean "We need to talk" as in, "We need to move our lips to form words?" Or did she mean "We need to talk" as in the dreaded phrase that sends chills down the spines of men?

Wearing only the boxers he slept in, Jon performed another rep on the bar between his bedroom and the hallway of his dad's condominium. Another rep, then another. He wouldn't stop until his biceps burned.

According to Hannah's messages, she didn't have any ties to Lyme University outside her massive friend base. She was moving home to "figure out life" and was taking the redeye into O'Hare tonight. Until a job as an artist beckoned her to another part of the world, she would live in Evanston Illinois.

Only eighteen miles away.

And she wanted to talk.

Tonight.

Jon's arms ached after twenty reps. The treatments he received as a child would affect him for the rest of his life.

He dropped from the bar, landed on a crumpled t-shirt, and kicked it to his bed. Crap, he thought. What if Hannah wants to talk here?

He toweled his neck with an old sock and scanned ground-zero. HotPockets, plates, a leaning tower of laundry, torn notebooks, ink stains... and two hours until he had to be at work.

He opened his phone, dialed his dad, and began collecting clothes.

When prompted, he pressed "1" for the pharmacy, then "0" to speak with the staff. Soft jazz played in his ear as he separated his tool belt and steel-towed boots from the rest of the laundry.

After the divorce, Dad transferred from the Evanston Walgreens to Greektown which put Jon in the horrible position of choosing between parents. Although it broke his mother's heart, Dad's condo was within walking distance from UIC where—until last week's graduation—Jon had been studying architecture and industrial design.

"This is George at Walgreens. How may I help you?"

"Ahoy-hoy, George. It's your son."

"Ahoy-hoy, Old Sport! Out of laxatives already?"

Jon shook his head. "The joke that never gets old."

Dad chuckled. "What can I do for ya?"

"I have a favor to ask."

"I figured as much."

"You work second shift tonight, right?"

"The schedule has been a little nuts lately..." he lowered his voice, "until the new guy figures out what the heck he's doing."

"Right. So you get off around midnight?"

Dad didn't miss a beat. "I take it things are going well with Hannah?"

"How do you do that?"

"I use deductive reasoning, son. Ever read Sherlock Holmes?"

"It's next on my list."