Chapter Nine: When a Man's in Love

Saturday morning dawned bright and beautiful. All was right with the world. I had successfully flirted with one Calla Wiley and obtained her telephone number without any new craziness cropping up. I stood before the wide windows of my skyscraper apartment, watching the sun come up with a smile.

I wondered if I should call her for breakfast? No, we’d both had late nights. She deserved to sleep in. Maybe I could call at lunchtime? Well, maybe it was too soon. Calling the very next day could come across as desperate. Where was Matt when I needed him? He might not know George Washington from Abraham Lincoln, but he could smell desperation from a mile away.

I decided to call him instead. Besides, I had silently promised revenge last night, and waking him at this early hour was a nice first step.

It rang three times before he picked up.

“Wha?”

“Good morning, Matthew! How are you this wonderful day? I woke up early to see the sunrise, and thought you’d like to share in it!”

“Who the fu… Mr. Rogers? Take your sunrise and shove it up your ass!”

“Matt, it’s Digger. Good morning.”

“What the hell, man, it’s like six-thirty. What are you doing?”

“Payback, my friend. Couldn’t keep your mouth shut last night, could you?” I was gleeful.

“What? That chick? So what? That wasn’t going anywhere anyway.”

“Oh, I beg to differ. I respectfully disagree. I wave my victory in your face: she gave me her number!”

“Whoop-te-doo. I’m in bed with Petra and Daphne right now.”

There’s nothing like news like that from your best friend to dampen your victorious spirit. “Thanks for raining on my parade.”

“Dude, I think it’s cute you thought her number was such a big deal. Seriously, that’s sweet. I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch.”

Matt hung up and I sat down on the edge of my (empty) bed.

“Son of a bitch.”


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I am a creature of habit. I really enjoy routines. Every weekday morning I get coffee at the same place, go to work at the same time, work my butt off until I’m the last to leave. I go to the same bar almost every Friday with the same people. I buy my newspaper at the same corner every day. The only variations in routine are forced on me by random circumstances, like the occasional business trip or an invitation from my parents. Or random people, like Matt, who take pleasure in disrupting organized lives.

So, I did the same thing that Saturday morning that I do every Saturday. I watched cartoons and ate cereal. The only real difference between an adult Saturday and the one I enjoyed as a child was that now, I had a big screen plasma television all to myself. Oh, and I stopped eating Fruit Loops in favour of a healthy oat and bran thing.

I lounged on my couch in just boxers and a t-shirt, enjoying a lazy morning. I would go jogging in the afternoon and do some working out, before catching up on paperwork or planning my week. But Saturday and Sunday mornings were really my only inactive times. I kept myself busy the rest of the week, with work or my routine social engagements.

The telephone rang at about eleven o’clock, reminding me of one of those social obligations.

“Hello, Mother.” I said, checking the caller ID before picking up.

“Good morning, Diggory dear. Are you coming for lunch tomorrow?”

“Yes, Mother. I haven’t forgotten.”

“You work so hard, dear, I don’t see you nearly enough. I don’t fully understand it. Your father owns the company, your future is assured. You could take some time off now and again.”

“Yes, Mother. I know. I like working, it keeps me busy.”

I didn’t know how to explain to her that I resented my cozy, assured future. And I didn’t want my peers to resent me for just assuming it. I had some desire to actually deserve it. It was a conversation my mother and I had repeated many times, with neither one of us getting anywhere.

“Well, I don’t want you working too hard. You need to have some fun, too. I do want grandchildren some day, you know.” I thought to myself, Subtle, Mom.

“Yes, Mother. I will see you tomorrow at the club. Don’t worry about me, Mother. Have a great day.”

I decided to go jogging early, just to get away from the phone. I changed into running shorts and sneakers, and pulled on a hooded sweatshirt. September was almost over, and the air was getting cooler. I headed out, locking up behind me, and rode the elevator down to the lobby.

I jogged lightly down the street for two blocks, until I reached the park around the corner. I would run a few laps, work up a good sweat, and then head back to my apartment to work out. I had my own equipment in one of the spare bedrooms.

The air was crisper than the past few weeks, despite the warm sun. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I’d be running in snow. I loved the outdoors, and refused to run on treadmills. It was the one piece of equipment I refused to purchase. I ran without a cell phone, without a wristwatch. For an hour or so, I was free.

I got back in a good sweat, and ready for my workout. I passed through the kitchen first, grabbing a bottle of designer water from the refrigerator. There was a message on my phone, blinking away. I hit the button as I drank.

“Hi, Mr. Franklin. Um, Diggory. I don’t know what to call you, we’re not quite on a first-name basis, are we? Well, maybe we are.”

My eyes went wide as I stared at the telephone.

“It’s me, Calla. Calla Wiley. I guess you’re not in? I’m sorry I disappeared last night, Bianca’s parents were really proud of her and took us out for drinks… Like you care about that. I’m sorry I’m rambling on your phone. Anyway, I just wanted you to know I didn’t take off on purpose, but I really wanted to see them, it’s been months. I’d like to hear from you. I mean, I hope you found my number on the picture… I left it for you, but I wasn’t sure if you’d find it. I hope you did. I hope you call.”

I reached for the phone.

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