I can call people in for interviews at the end of the week,” she told him. He nodded, then flipped through the first application quickly, sighing. Maggie regarded him for a moment, head tilted. “What’s up, boss?”
When Theo didn’t answer, Maggie perched on the table and waited. Eventually he apologized, dropped the paperwork back onto the table, and sagged in his seat.
“People keep talking to me at the gym.” He looked miserable. “It’s happening more and more often. I don’t understand. I used to be able to run, then leave. Now someone always wants to talk.” He huffed while Maggie smiled.
“Are you still listening to music while you work out?” Maggie asked.
Theo didn’t want to admit that he’d stopped. Since talking to Peter about the playlists that Ben had compiled for him, he couldn’t bring himself to listen to them anymore. He pictured himself pounding away on the treadmill, then getting caught out by an unexpected reminder of the past. Just the idea made his chest tight.
Maggie nudged his ankle. “If you don’t want to talk, wear your headphones.” She paused, scrutinizing his face for a moment, then nudged his ankle again until he made eye contact with her. “Are you sure that people have suddenly started talking to you?”
Theo thought for a moment. Maybe he’d been oblivious to all the greetings and smiles from other gym members before. He didn’t see how, but maybe he just hadn’t been paying attention.
Maggie passed the paperwork to him again. “Welcome back to the world, Theo.”
They got on with their short listing.
L ATER that evening he started a thread on the forum’s social board asking for recommendations for good running music. He was determined to load his iPod with new tunes, ones that wouldn’t stage sneak attacks on his emotions. Just an hour later he had a huge list of suggestions.
Half an hour after that he was back on the forum.
THEO: iTunes has beaten me.
Morgan sent him a private message almost immediately, mocking him furiously, and generally making Theo feel dumb. He named music download sites and software that he had never heard of.
It was all too confusing. Ben took care of this shit.
MORGAN: What’s your e-mail addy? I’ll talk you through it.
Once Theo had figured out how his e-mail provider’s chat function operated, Morgan took over his whole evening. Without the buffer of the forum’s private messaging system to slow down their conversation, Morgan’s wit was lightning fast and lethal. He talked Theo through loading some new music, then slammed the other members’ suggestions. When he sent Theo a link to a file-sharing site, Theo balked.
THEO: I’m almost certain that’s illegal.
MORGAN: Oh yeah, by the way, I’m chatting to you from the King County Correctional Facility.
Morgan thought he was so funny naming a city lockup. Theo sniffed, then asked for song suggestions he could purchase legally instead. They were in the middle of a conversation about live music—Ben always adored gigs, little gatherings in smoky bars back when bars still used to be smoky, even stadium concerts—when Morgan interrupted, saying that his boyfriend was back.
Just a week before, Theo had found himself wondering if Morgan was female. For some reason the ambiguity of his unisex name hadn’t struck Theo until Morgan had replied to a thread about relationships.
Someone was giving a relative newbie a hard time about his or her relationship problems. Theo was still boggled by the level of painfully personal detail people chose to share without hesitation on the Internet. Morgan had waded fearlessly into the middle of their argument. People should, according to him, walk a fucking mile before judging. How did anyone on the net know what went on in other people’s private lives?
MORGAN: For all you know, my boyfriend could be a complete nightmare.
From the comfort of his couch, Theo had dwelled on the word “boyfriend.” Statistically, he
When Theo didn’t answer, Maggie perched on the table and waited. Eventually he apologized, dropped the paperwork back onto the table, and sagged in his seat.
“People keep talking to me at the gym.” He looked miserable. “It’s happening more and more often. I don’t understand. I used to be able to run, then leave. Now someone always wants to talk.” He huffed while Maggie smiled.
“Are you still listening to music while you work out?” Maggie asked.
Theo didn’t want to admit that he’d stopped. Since talking to Peter about the playlists that Ben had compiled for him, he couldn’t bring himself to listen to them anymore. He pictured himself pounding away on the treadmill, then getting caught out by an unexpected reminder of the past. Just the idea made his chest tight.
Maggie nudged his ankle. “If you don’t want to talk, wear your headphones.” She paused, scrutinizing his face for a moment, then nudged his ankle again until he made eye contact with her. “Are you sure that people have suddenly started talking to you?”
Theo thought for a moment. Maybe he’d been oblivious to all the greetings and smiles from other gym members before. He didn’t see how, but maybe he just hadn’t been paying attention.
Maggie passed the paperwork to him again. “Welcome back to the world, Theo.”
They got on with their short listing.
L ATER that evening he started a thread on the forum’s social board asking for recommendations for good running music. He was determined to load his iPod with new tunes, ones that wouldn’t stage sneak attacks on his emotions. Just an hour later he had a huge list of suggestions.
Half an hour after that he was back on the forum.
THEO: iTunes has beaten me.
Morgan sent him a private message almost immediately, mocking him furiously, and generally making Theo feel dumb. He named music download sites and software that he had never heard of.
It was all too confusing. Ben took care of this shit.
MORGAN: What’s your e-mail addy? I’ll talk you through it.
Once Theo had figured out how his e-mail provider’s chat function operated, Morgan took over his whole evening. Without the buffer of the forum’s private messaging system to slow down their conversation, Morgan’s wit was lightning fast and lethal. He talked Theo through loading some new music, then slammed the other members’ suggestions. When he sent Theo a link to a file-sharing site, Theo balked.
THEO: I’m almost certain that’s illegal.
MORGAN: Oh yeah, by the way, I’m chatting to you from the King County Correctional Facility.
Morgan thought he was so funny naming a city lockup. Theo sniffed, then asked for song suggestions he could purchase legally instead. They were in the middle of a conversation about live music—Ben always adored gigs, little gatherings in smoky bars back when bars still used to be smoky, even stadium concerts—when Morgan interrupted, saying that his boyfriend was back.
Just a week before, Theo had found himself wondering if Morgan was female. For some reason the ambiguity of his unisex name hadn’t struck Theo until Morgan had replied to a thread about relationships.
Someone was giving a relative newbie a hard time about his or her relationship problems. Theo was still boggled by the level of painfully personal detail people chose to share without hesitation on the Internet. Morgan had waded fearlessly into the middle of their argument. People should, according to him, walk a fucking mile before judging. How did anyone on the net know what went on in other people’s private lives?
MORGAN: For all you know, my boyfriend could be a complete nightmare.
From the comfort of his couch, Theo had dwelled on the word “boyfriend.” Statistically, he
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