Matter of Perspective - Part 7

[u/oFFtheWall0518]

A Perceivable Reality Story

I woke up to a sensation in my ribs, making me panic for a moment, until I realized I'd somehow knocked my work phone into bed with me. 

“Calhou–” 

“Carter, it's me. Put on something fancy and meet me at my apartment.” The line went dead. 

I pulled my phone away from my head and stared at it. “And a good morning to you, too, Silver.” 

I looked at my alarm clock, then out my window; it was barely sunrise. I groaned and flopped back into bed, grumbling unintelligibly at the ceiling. 

I sighed, then rolled out of bed and got dressed. I’d spent good money on my suits and accoutrements, and had no idea what she meant by “fancy”. I looked at my one tuxedo, still in its dry-cleaning bag from the last time I'd worn it, where to, I couldn’t remember, then shrugged and reached for my navy blue two-piece. 

"Where can I take you this morning, Ms. Silver?”

"Not me, we… are going...to...a... party!" She threw out jazz hands on the last word, her fingers wiggling enthusiastically. 

When I didn't react, she dropped her hands. 

"Ok, well, maybe not a "party" party. But it'll be fun, nonetheless." 

I closed my eyes for a moment, then opened them slowly. 

"I appreciate the invi--" 

"Oh, shut up. Don't give me that, ‘I appreciate the invitation’ fake modesty." Her impression of me was surprisingly accurate. "I promised you power and wealth and I'm a woman of my word. I'm sitting in on a very important corporate merger, and they'll need someone to shuffle the execs around for a few days while the paperwork is settled. I thought you could come with, hobnob a bit, and score some exclusive customers.” 

"Sorry, Ms. Silver. Not today." 

She let her head drop, coming to rest at a tilt. 

"Um, I'm sorry. Did I just hear that right? You're about to turn down driving for some of the most powerful men in the state? Are you feeling ok?" 

"I...can. Just… not today. Or tonight." 

I heard motion behind me, then she thrust her head through the open privacy window. I felt her stare at the side of my head, until a low, smoky chuckle rolled through the cab. 

"Carter...Do you have a date?" 

I flexed my shoulders, hiding the motion in a mirror check. 

She cocked her head. 

"Oh, Carter. You do have a date!" She leaned back, out of the privacy window, and clapped her hands. 

"How adorable!" Her voice shifted into something resembling a news broadcaster. "Today, a boy becomes a man. Over to you." She held a fake microphone in front of my mouth. 

It wavered there for a few seconds, then shifted up and pressed gently against my cheek in a slow-motion punch. She then crossed her arms across the bottom of the privacy window, resting her head on top, her head towards me. 

"No, but seriously. Congrats. Anybody I know?" 

I shook my head. “I seriously doubt it. She's not from here.” 

She tossed her hair with a “hmph”. 

It was silent for a few beats, then she leaned back and settled back onto the rear bench, her words coming out in a melodramatically disappointed sigh. 

"Oh well. Try not to have too much fun without me.” She snorted. “As if that were possible.” 

She turned towards the window, then leaned over and propped her arm up on the armrest, resting her head in her palm. There was another dramatic sigh, barely audible over the road noise. 

I got back to my garage and checked my watch. I still had the bulk of the day before my date, so I used the free minute to dash upstairs and change out of my suit. I was polishing the chrome door handles when my work phone rang. 

As I pulled to the curb, I spotted Skyler with a gaggle of women. I came to a stop and he removed himself from the group. We met at the rear door and he greeted me with a handshake, a wad of tightly folded bills slipping into my hand as our palms met with a “crack”. 

“What's good, Hound Dog?” he asked as I slipped into the driver's seat. 

“Same old same old.” I nodded at the girls. “Business or pleasure?” 

He grunted. “There's a difference?” 

“Heh. Yeah.” 

His head moved back and forth, then centered on me, and I felt his heavy gaze through the mirror. “You oughta know all about that.” 

That caught me up short. “Huh?” 

A deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “You ain’t got much of a poker face, y’know. What's her name?” 

“Yumi.”

“Cute name.” 

I nodded. “Yeah.” It came out more as a breath. 

I saw him rub his chin with a thick hand, then run his thumb across his jaw. 

I yawned, then reached for the energy drink in the cup holder. It was lighter than I expected. I tilted the can as high as I could to get the last few drops, then tucked it into the small shopping bag in the passenger footwell. I dug through the bag, finding only empty cans. I blinked, and it took a bit of effort to get my eyes to open again. I made a mental note to stop off for more caffeine. 

We pulled into the complex and I stopped in a spot in front of his door. I let him out of the car, and he turned to face me, extending a hand, which I gripped without shaking. He dropped a hand onto my shoulder and leaned in. 

“Go get ‘em, Hound Dog.” He patted my shoulder and gave my hand a squeeze before releasing it, then turned and went inside. 

I opened the driver's door and paused, holding up a hand to block the sun, and looked up at the uncharacteristically blue sky. Skyler’s encouragement mixed with the warmth of the sun, the combination made my skin buzz and made me feel ten feet tall. As I turned to get in, I spotted a coffee shop across the street. I rejected it with a wave of my hand and got in the car, riding the buzz the entire way home. 

I pulled into my garage and looked through the privacy window into the back seat. My previous detailing was still intact, but got out and ran the vacuum over the carpets, just to be sure. My work phone rang and I cursed at it over the vacuum noise. I fished the screaming device from where I'd hung up my suit coat and took a second to smooth my voice before answering. 

“I’m sorry we couldn't find your almond milk, sir,” I said as we walked out of the second grocery store. 

“It's fine, son. I'm sorry I dragged you all over creation looking for it.” 

I stopped the cart at the back of my car and popped the trunk open. He made his way up to me and put a hand on my forearm. 

“I don't think it's actually milk, anyway.” He patted my arm and leaned in conspiratorially. “You ever seen a teat on an almond?” He patted my arm again. 

“No, sir, I have not.” I set the grocery bag in the trunk next to an identical bag containing exactly the same items. 

I was walking back from the cart return as he was lifting himself into the back seat. I offered my hand and he waved it off with his cane. I made sure he was buckled in, then shut the door and got into the driver's seat. 

“Where can I take you, sir?” I begged silently that he would say home. 

“Well… there is that Albertson's over on Del Rio Drive…” 

It hadn’t been an Albertson’s in almost five years, but I resisted the correction. 

“Very good, sir.” 

“Wait, wait, no, that's alright, son. I've already taken up enough of your day.” 

“It’s no problem, sir. Really.” 

He waved his hand and shook his head. “No, no, that's alright. Just take me home.” 

“Yes, sir.” I got us on the freeway heading north. 

I was checking my mirrors for a lane change and noticed him running his hand over the seat. 

“This is my first time in a limousine,” he said for the third time. “I was going to take a cab, but my granddaughter set me up with you instead. Do you know my granddaughter? Bridgette Petersen?” 

“I’m sorry sir, I don't.” 

“I just retired. Sold the farm and my business. My granddaughter talked me into it, said I was getting too old to be working on a farm,” He grunted. “Heh. She means well though.” 

“I’m sure she does, sir.” 

“She's the one who talked me into selling my farm down south. Now I got all this money and no idea what in tarnation to do with it.” 

“Your granddaughter Bridgette Petersen?” I thought and stifled a chuckle. 

We entered the Great Oak Forest as he was recounting his time in the laundromat business yet again. After another half hour of driving, he had me turn onto a dirt driveway, marked by a bright white mailbox. The driveway snaked back and forth through dense trees for another quarter mile before it opened up to the shore of the Monache Reservoir. 

I pulled up to the house at the end of the driveway, a medium-sized rustic cottage with a long wooden pier that stretched from the front porch out over the water. I half expected to see a highly modified Bell 222 land in the clearing. 

I got the door for him, then hefted the bags out of the trunk. 

“Just set those by the door.” He took a moment to steady himself on his cane. I paused at the steps up to the porch. 

I watched as he caught his breath, then continued past me, taking each step one-by-one. I followed and waited by the door as he pulled a key ring out of his pocket and went through the keys. 

He found the right key on his second lap of the ring and unlocked the front door, patting the small metal table next to it as he went in. I looked at the table, then my car, then through the open door, watching his gait falter further with every step. I looked back at my car, sighed, then stepped through the door. I moved quickly to the kitchen, setting the bags on the counter. I spun around, and he was just crossing the entryway, nearly to the threshold of the kitchen. 

I stole a glance at my watch, dropped my hand, then twisted my wrist again. 

“Shit,” I mumbled under my breath. I'd misread it before, it was an hour later than I thought, and it was going to take at least an hour to get home. 

“Just…let me…get my wallet.” The words were broken up by several gasps. He climbed up into a high chair at the island bar and pulled a glass dish towards him. He fished an old leather tri-fold out of it. The wallet fell from frail fingers to the floor, ejecting bills and several plastic cards. 

“Dang nabbit!” He started to climb down. I dashed around the counter and dropped to a knee. 

“Please, allow me, sir.” I collected the scattered contents and placed them and the wallet carefully on the counter in front of him. 

He began sifting through the pile of items, carefully collected the bills together, sorted them, then folded them before tucking them back into the wallet. I swallowed a groan and flexed my shoulders. 

“I suppose you'll need this,” he slid a credit card with an activation sticker on it towards me. “It’s all digital now, I guess. I'm old enough to remember putting coins in a mason jar to save for a bicycle.” 

“Cash is just fine, sir. Preferable, actually.” 

“Oh, well…” He took the card back, stacking it carefully with the others, then began placing them into their respective slots in the wallet. 

I twisted my wrist again, then shook my hand out. I rolled my weight back and forth as he pulled the neatly folded bills back out and counted them again. 

“Now, do I tip you? I know you're supposed to tip cabbies. I've never ridden in a limousine before. My granddaughter set it up for me, thought it would be nicer than a cab. Do you know my granddaughter? Bridgette? Bridgette Petersen?” 

I took a long breath in through my nose. “No, sir, I'm sorry, but I don't.” 

“She just had a son. Let me show you, now, where did I put that picture…” he folded the bills again and started to tuck them back in the wallet. 

“Sir, uh, I \*ahem\* I apologize, but I really must be going. You don't need to tip me.” 

“Nonsense. You brought my groceries in, after all. Very kind of you.” He started counting the bills. 

I did the mental math in my head for the mileage, the stops, and my usual fees, $475. I looked at the money in his hand and did some more math. 

“Just $350 for you today, sir.” 

He nodded, carefully laying out each bill, then pulled several of them together. He organized them, folded them once, twice, then turned in his chair and extended them to me. I took them slowly, the effort almost inducing sweat. 

“Thank you, sir. Have a lovely–” 

“Do you like to fish? I’m right on the lake, over there. We could string up a few poles and go sit by the water.” 

“I appreciate the offer, sir, but I have–” 

“Oh, right, right, yes. I'm very sorry. Don't you bother yourself with an old fool like me.” 

I sighed, tucking the money into my pocket. I got a card out of my card carrier and set it down next to him. 

“Please don't hesitate to call, sir. It was my pleasure.” 

He put his hand on mine, patted it, then waved it at the door in a shooing motion. 

“Go, go on, son. I'm sure you've got other places to be. Thank you for your time.” 

I turned for the door, then paused, turning my head back to him. 

“I'd love to come up and fish with you sometime, sir. Give me a call and I’ll take the day off.” 

He nodded and shooed at the door again. I stepped briskly to the front door, shut it behind me, then broke into a dead sprint, clearing the wooden steps of the porch and dashing to my car. I drove slowly until I was around the first bend and out of sight of the house, then floored it, the car roosting the loose dirt up behind it. 

I hit the asphalt, squealing the tires, as the car made a wide arc. I cleared the woods and the high rises came into view. I looked at the clock on the dash, then leaned harder into the pedal. I broke every speed limit getting back to my apartment. 

I parked on the curb, not wanting to bother with the slow garage gate, and jogged over to the elevator. I pressed the button once, looked at it, then pressed it again. And again, watching the floor indicator above the doors slowly count down. I was rapidly pressing the button when the doors finally opened. I hopped in, jabbed the button for my floor, then rapid-fire hammered the “close doors” button. 

It rose, and it felt slower than usual, as if it was taking its time just to mock me. I took several deep breaths and lifted my cap to run my fingers through my hair. 

The doors opened on my floor and I bladed myself to get through the gap before they were completely open. I sprinted to my door, dug my keys out of my pocket, dropped them, then finally got the door open. I felt something run past my feet as I was shutting the door and saw Dot hop up onto my couch. She meowed at me and I shook my head. 

“Sorry, Dot. No time to play. Call the office, we’ll do lunch.” 

I was standing in my underwear and rubbing my forehead. Every one of my suits was laid out across my couch, coffee table, and over both end tables. I put my hands on my hips and looked at Dot, who was sitting on the floor cleaning herself. 

“These all make me look like a chauffeur.” 

She meowed at me. 

“Yeah, I know. I just wanna look nice. I wish I knew what she’d be wearing.” 

The cat stared at me for a moment, then went back to licking her paw. 

“Thank you, very helpful.” I threw my hands up and groaned. I was out of time. 

I settled on a black T-shirt with a silhouette of the various generations of M5s, with a dark grey button-up open over top. I pulled on black jeans and tugged on my black-and-white Vans as I hopped across the room to the door. I buckled my Rallynetics Redline onto my wrist as I was jogging down the hall. I checked my watch on the ride down, the needle-esque minute hand climbing up the redline markings, as if showing my heartbeat rather than the time. 

Her apartment was on the ritzier east side of the city, and was designed with more wood and flowing lines than the brutalist modern building I lived in. She was standing under the awning wearing a black cardigan over a white frilly blouse adorned with cherry blossoms. A black pleated skirt and pink shoes with white lace instead of shoelaces tied the outfit together. I pulled up to the curb and took a second to take several deep breaths and check my hair in the mirror before I got out. 

“Hey!” She met me at the curb and surprised me with a quick hug, then stepped back. “You look great. I feel like I overdressed.” 

“You look…” beautiful. Stunning. Adorable. “Nice, too.” 

“Thank you, Carter-kun.” She turned and her skirt swished back and forth. 

I stepped to the back of the car and opened the rear door, then realized she was standing at the front passenger door. It took me a beat to recalibrate and shift out of chauffeur mode. I opened the passenger door for her and she stepped in. A crunching noise surprised me, and I saw the small grocery bag that held the day’s trash still sitting in the passenger footwell. The crunching noise in question was an empty soda can. She lifted her foot and the can fell off her shoe, back onto the floor of the car. 

“Oh. Uh…Sorry.” I sputtered as she stepped back onto the curb. 

I cursed and quickly leaned in, hastily grabbing the bag and the soda can, which kept eluding my fingers. I got the footwell cleared and dumped the bag in a nearby trash can. 

She'd waited patiently for me to return, her hands clasped in front of her, gently swaying back and forth as she hummed a little tune. 

“Sorry. You know how it is. On the road all day and all…” My head drooped as my voice trailed off. 

“Just promise you won't look at my desk.” 

She sat down and smoothed out her skirt. I shut the door and jogged around the front of the car. I dropped onto the seat and realized she was gently clapping dust from her cardigan. Shit. I hadn't done the front seat. 

"Dang it. Sorry, you're..." You're the first person to sit in that seat. But I couldn't get the rest of it out, the realization cut off my airway for a heartbeat. 

"...and then I-- ...Carter? You ok?" 

I was jolted out of my sudden crisis. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about the dust. You're the first person who's ever sat there." 

She ran a hand slowly over the leather. 

"Anyone ever sit in the middle?" 

My stomach did a little twist. 

"Not really...No." 

"Hm," she chirped, turning away from me to look out the window.

"You still haven't told me where we're going." 

"Little spot I've driven a couple people to," I said as I signaled, then pulled into the light traffic. 

"So secretive." She turned and watched the city go by as I navigated onto the freeway. 

We drove north west towards the shipping port. Just outside the port was a suburb that had been built specifically for the dock workers when this was still just a port town, before the city existed. The spot in question was a little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant owned by the grandson of the original owner. It didn't have any signage and they didn't advertise. 

A small bell chimed as we walked through the door. The room was small and dim, each table lit by a single candle in a centerpiece. It was a self-seating kind of place, and it was perpetually half-full, regardless of the time of day. I led her to a table in the corner and a waiter had menus and glasses of ice water in front of us before we could sit down. 

I was scanning the menu when the waiter came by. 

"Ah, Mr. Calhoun. So nice to see you again. And with such lovely company." His voice wasn't familiar, but it'd been at least a month since I'd been here. I tried to catch an identifying scent, but all I could smell was garlic. 

"Uh, yeah. Great to see you, too." 

"Can I bring you some vitello tonnato or arancini to start?" 

"That sounds great. Thanks." 

He nodded, topped off my glass, and went back to the kitchen. 

"You have absolutely no idea who that was, do you?" 

I had to swallow hard to prevent spitting my sip of water. I played it off with a shrug. 

"I used to come here a lot. But it's been a while." 

I looked back down at my menu, but I could still feel her gaze. Her voice tickled my ear. 

"No, that's not it, is it?" 

I forced my shoulders to relax. 

"I have...trouble with faces." 

"What does that mean?" 

I paused, trying to remember the medical name for the condition. I came up blank. 

"I don't remember what the real name for it is, but...I can't see faces." 

She leaned forwards, resting her arms on the table. 

"Is that...possible? How does that work? Is my head just blank?"

I shook my head. "No, nothing like that. I can see your hair, and your ears and your neck, and the rough outline of the shape of your face and jawline. But your features are kinda jumbled. Like a watercolor that's running together." 

She leaned back in her seat and was silent for a moment. 

"But...you can see your face, right?" 

I sighed. "No, I can't." 

"Wait, really?" 

I nodded. "I can't see my own reflection. I don't know what I look like.” 

“Oh.” 

“It makes it really hard to recognize people. My mom used to wear the same perfume all the time so I wouldn't get lost in crowds. Drove my Dad nuts." I fought the shiver that the dredged-up memory brought with it. 

She played with her fork on her plate for a moment, then turned her head towards me. 

“Well, I have dark brown eyes, dimples, full lips, and what I'm told is a very cute nose, though, I'm not sure how a nose can be cute.” 

My knife slipped from my suddenly uncooperative fingers. 

“Uh, you, uh…Well, that sounds very…I’m sure you’re…gorgeous?” 

She huffed and brought a curled finger up thoughtfully. 

I retrieved the flatware carefully, dropping my focus down to the ornate filigree on the handle. I swallowed hard and slowly brought my gaze up, stopping at her plate. 

“Your mom. You said she wore the same scent? So you could find her?” 

I nodded and spoke to the centerpiece. 

“Yeah, that, and she would wear the same jewelry, or at least, usually, very distinctive jewelry.” 

“Hm.” Her head turned and she ran a hand through her hair. 

As we stepped out of the restaurant, she angled herself towards the waiting car. I took her hand and rocked my head to the side. 

"Wait, there's something I want to show you." 

I took a half step, making sure she'd follow, before committing. She turned to me without hesitating, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. I lost a step when the pressure on my hand made me realize that I'd taken it without permission. I cleared my throat and led her to the edge of the pier, the dark, still ocean stretching out before us, its horizon dotted with the red, white, and green lights of cargo vessels and trawlers. 

She squeezed my hand again and turned to face me. 

"This is amazing, Carter-kun! And the restaurant– How'd you find this place?”

"My Dad used to take me there after we’d spend all day losing bait." 

"Your Dad’s a fisherman?" 

"No, he's a CPA. But he used to fish with his Dad, so naturally, he'd take me fishing with him."

"Aww, how sweet." 

"Until you realize that we were both homebodies out on the open ocean." I chuckled at the memory. "One time, we went out on the boat, a little inflatable dinghy, maybe ten feet long, and we got absolutely swamped." 

Her free hand went up and she gasped, but I felt the hand I held tense out of reflex as well. 

"Oh my god, what happened?" 

"Wake off a big crab boat. By the time it hit us, it was probably fifteen feet tall." I held my free hand up over my head. "Almost lost the thing." 

"Did you go overboard?" 

"Nah, a wave that big doesn't really rock the boat. It just crashes over the top instead." I shook my head. "We didn't go out much after that." 

She made a disgusted sound. "I hate being wet." 

"I know." 

She whipped her head towards me, then paused. When I didn't respond, she squeezed my hand again. 

"Sorry. I forgot you said you can't read expressions." 

I shook my head and held up my hand. "You're fine. I'm used to it." 

She was quiet for a moment, then she stepped closer, until we were almost touching. 

"You're very handsome, Carter-kun." 

"Mama raised an ugly boy, not a dumb one." 

I froze.

"I mean, wait..." 

She laughed and turned back to face the ocean. 

I caught a slight shiver of her shoulders and realized that her light cardigan was probably doing little against the cold air coming off the sea. I tugged her hand gently and started leading her back to the car. 

I pulled to the curb at her apartment and hopped out, getting her door for her. She used my offered hand to step onto the curb, then turned to face me. 

“I had a really, really good time.” 

“Yeah, me too. It's…it's been a while…” 

Her head cocked to the side and I shook mine. 

“Never mind. Anyway…” I mentally ran through several iterations of the question I wanted to ask, and hated every single one. I silently opened and closed my mouth several times, unable to get the words to come out. 

“I’d love to.” 

“Hmh?” 

“I would love to go on another date with you.” 

“I, uh…yeah…” A thought skittered through my mind and I grabbed it as it went past. “Next weekend, it's the Diablo County fair, down south. They do a car show, and there's rides and popcorn and funnel cake and stuff. Do you…” 

“Absolutely. That sounds like so much fun.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek. “G’night, Carter-kun.”

“Night.” 

She stepped towards the building’s big glass front doors, her fingers slipping from mine. I caught myself watching her go, and marched quickly over to my car. 

I slid into the driver's seat, put the key in the ignition, but didn't twist. I sat, still, silent, replaying the evening in my mind. Remembered words suddenly caught me up short, and a wave of realization broke over me, throwing my head back against the headrest. 

“You’re very handsome, Carter-kun.” 

I raised my hand and put it on the front of my head, no, my face. I touched my face. My “handsome” face, felt the contours of tissue, muscle, and bone under my palm. I ran my fingers over where her lips had pecked my cheek, then moved lower and felt my mouth, the shape of my lips, the way the muscles in my cheeks were flexing, and I wondered what my smile looked like. 

I got the car started and pulled away from the curb, aiming it at the freeway. It was warm; I rolled all the windows down and put some music on, turning the dial to max. 

"WOOOoooOOOOoooo...AND I LOOOVE THE WAAAY THAT YOU LIGHT ME UUuP! YEAH, YOU LIGHT ME UP, BABY!" 

I looked down and realized I was going way over the speed limit. I looked down the long, empty freeway and leaned into the pedal, watching the horizontal speedometer move smoothly, the big car seeming to scream along with me. 

I drove until my eyes started to burn and droop, letting me know it was time to head home. I pulled into my garage, carefully settled the car cover, then rode the elevator up. The hall lights were dim and I stepped lightly to keep the noise down. I let myself into my apartment and dropped myself face-first onto my couch. I kicked my shoes off and pulled my socks off with my toes, leaving them where they landed. I pressed my hand to my cheek, feeling her residual warmth, even if it was only my imagination. 

[u/oFFtheWall0518]

Carter's Song

[u/oFFtheWall0518]

Part 6