CHAPTER 14: STILL MIRANDA
After his folks left and a hearty helping of brisket and roasted potatoes had been consumed, Gordo settled down in the den with Bruce Willis and Creamsicles. Soon he was so absorbed in the drama, and so full of Creamsicles, that he didn't even remember it was Valentine's Day. Except for a slight bit of indigestion, he was feeling fine.
As the first movie ended, Gordo lazily wondered if there was some way he could put in the second movie without actually having to get up off the couch. He was so comfortable he didn't want to move. Superpowers would be nice about now. He tried to concentrate the absolute power of his conscious brain on the DVD player in an effort to make the door open, one disc fly out and another fly into its place, but alas, to no avail.Oh well, he thought,so much for the absolute power of my conscious brain.
If superpowers were not available, Gordo considered, he ought to at least have a multi-DVD player. They had units like that for CD's; did they have them for DVD's? He didn't know. What he did know was that if something like this did not already exist, he needed to invent it. This could make him a millionaire! Couch Potatoes all over the world would hold him in the highest esteem. He would be the Couch Potato King and would never have to get up off the couch again. He sighed, a strange mixture of contentment and frustration welling up inside him.
Eventually Gordo pulled himself up off the couch, inserted the second movie, then plopped down again, thinking of nothing more than how many movies his invention had to be able play at a time in order to make him a millionaire. He wasn't even thinking about the movie on the screen when suddenly he heard the phone ringing.
Oh crap! His bubble of reverie burst and he now had to deal with the difficult decision of whether or not to get up to answer. The portable was still in the kitchen. He cursed himself for not being diligent enough to bring it with him into the den. If he had the phone right here, the Caller ID display would let him know if he should answer. But now, because he hadn't planned ahead, and because he had already wasted precious seconds cursing himself for not planning ahead, he felt certain that by the time he managed to pull himself up off the couch and retrieve the portable from the kitchen, the call would probably go to the answering machine. That wouldn't be too bad, actually—except he had a clear memory of Meryl once telling him how she hated the way her voice sounded on the phone, so unless it was a dire emergency, she didn't like to leave messages.
What if this was Meryl? What if things had not gone well with Tudge tonight? What if they had already broken up and she needed his shoulder to cry on? Would she leave a message? Would that constitute a dire emergency?
On the other hand…what if this was Parker? She believed him to be sick at home. What if she was offering to bring him chicken soup? Egads! He couldn't let that happen! But if he didn't answer, she might assume the worst and run right over to—
Gordo suddenly bolted off the couch, ran to the kitchen, grabbed the phone and hit the Talk button without even taking time to check the Caller ID. "Hello?" he said immediately, adding a tiny cough at the end, just in case.
For a moment his heart stood still, wondering whose voice was going to answer. He could already hear, in the almost imperceptible hissing in the background, that whoever was calling him was doing so from a public place. Gordo was good like that about the phone. He could pick up all the little clues. Somehow, he also knew that his caller was a female. Well, that was a fifty-fifty, but being that lately girls didn't seem to want to leave him alone, he would have bet one hundred percent of the farm on his caller being female.
In a moment, his mystery caller spoke. "David?"
It was Miranda.
Gordo sighed, somewhat disappointed, but also relieved. Miranda was okay. But, he wondered, wrinkling up his face, why in the world was she calling him now?
"Hey, Miranda!" he said brightly. "What's up?"
"Well, that's what I'm calling to ask you," Miranda said. "Is everything okay?"
"Uh…yeah," he replied, feeling a bit confused. "We talked earlier, remember? I'm not really sick. Remember?"
"Oh, I know that," Miranda assured. "I'm just…well, I've been thinking of you, quite a lot lately, and I feel kinda bad about you being all alone on Valentine's Day, so I thought at the very least I ought to call you and say Happy Valentine's Day and all that. You know….just to let you know I was thinking about you."
For a moment Gordo didn't answer. In the silence he could hear the hum of the crowd, the clinking of glasses and silverware in the background. "Thanks, Miranda. But I'm okay, really. How about you? Aren't you…aren't you and Chris…?"
"Oh yeah," Miranda said. "We're at Holy Rigatoni."
Gordo smirked. That was going to be his guess. Damn, he was good! But then suddenly, "Hey! Wait a minute, if you're out with Chris, doesn't he mind you—?"
"Oh, he's not here at the moment," Miranda explained. "He went to use 'the facilities.'"
"So..." Gordo said slowly. But that's all he said. What he was thinking was…So. Boyfriend leaves the table. For just a few minutes. On Valentine's Day. And the first thing Miranda wants to do is pick up her cell phone and call me? To say a bunch of stuff she already said?
In the dead air that followed, Gordo could feel her uneasiness. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help asking, "So…are you guys okay?"
Almost as if she could read his mind, Miranda suddenly burst out, "Oh stop it, Gordo! It's not a big deal. He'll be right back. "
After this, there was another moment of silence. Neither talked. Neither knew exactly what to say. And the longer the silence went on, with only the tinkling of glasses and silverware in the background, the more the uncomfortable vibe increased.
Finally, Miranda sighed. Then she said only one word. In a very soupy, almost scary voice.
"Gordo…" she said.
Okay, Gordo thought. This is officially getting weird. He knew Miranda too well, and she had never said his name like that before. His spider sense was tingling and he began to suspect where this conversation might be heading. He didn't want to go there, not with Miranda, not now. Maybe some other time with Miranda, like in the far, distant future. In the furthest recesses of his mind, so recessed that he himself almost didn't know it existed, if he ever stopped to think about it, he might be able to force himself to realize that he had never completely closed off the possibility that someday he and Miranda could possibly get together. But that certainly wasn't happening today! Or anytime soon. And it absolutely could not happen while he was still so hung up on…on…someone else…on that other girl, that…
Yeah, he thought…someone else. That other girl...
But who? Of course! Nicole. No, wait…not Nicole. It was Meryl! That's right! Sweet little freckle-faced Meryl…Yeah! That was it! It was Meryl. Not—-not—-not that other other girl—
"Listen," Gordo said suddenly, anxiously. "I—I've gotta go. I'll talk to you later."
"Look," Miranda said with determination, blowing right past his dismissal. "I guess I just called to let you know that I believe…I really, really believe, that somewhere out there is the perfect girl for you, Gordo, the girl who will—"
"I know," Gordo agreed. "I believe that too." He was thinking of Meryl. Yes. Meryl.
"And that someday," Miranda went on, dramatically, "when the time is right, and perhaps when you least expect it—"
Gordo rolled his eyes. Miranda was not planning to give up on this theme any time soon, was she? "Listen, Miranda—" he began.
"Listen to what?"
But he didn't know what to say, except to repeat what he had already said, that he had to go, he would talk to her later—and he instantly knew that if he started repeating himself, the same way she was repeating herself, things were only going to get worse.
But before things could get worse, Miranda suddenly exclaimed, "Ooh! Crap! It's Chris. He's coming back. Gotta go. Talk to you later." But before she hung up, she squeezed out, very quickly, "I missed seeing you in the park this morning. What about tomorrow? Whatta ya think? See you tomorrow?"
"I—I don't know," Gordo said absently.
"Okay!" Miranda said brightly. "See you then! I hope! G'nite, Gordo!"
And then she finally hung up, and the tinkling and the humming noises were instantly replaced by Die Hard 2, as Gordo suddenly realized, Oh crap. I think I'm in deep, deep trouble…
Gordo went back to the den and tried to concentrate on Die Hard 2, but the mood was spoiled. He'd been having a good time until Miranda called, throwing another monkey wrench into his well-laid plans. Brisket. Creamsicles. Action films! Everything had been going so well, and now here was yet another girl with a new drama for him to deal with. Everything had been so easy in middle school, a simpler time when Lizzie and Miranda were nothing more than his best friends in all the world and he never thought about girls at all. Well…hardly at all. But since high school started, he'd found himself subjected to a constant whirlwind of girls, each bringing their own particular brand of drama into his otherwise orderly life.
He tried to concentrate on John McClane fighting terrorists in the airport. Men being men! Maybe that was the answer. Maybe he ought to just give up on girls altogether. Frankly, it was beginning to suffocate him. Miranda sounding all mushy on the phone, like she was about to say something he wasn't ready to hear—that was the final straw. That was more than he could deal with. He really wasn't built for all this drama. Maybe he ought to just…
Well. Okay. Not give up on girls completely. That was nuckin' futs! Right? But what if he just decided to…give it a rest? For a little while only? Simply posing the possibility to himself suddenly gave him a great feeling of relief, as if a dark cloud was lifting from over his head. It would certainly simplify things.
"Miranda," he tried, speaking aloud, since nobody was around to hear him, and he just wanted to try this on for size. "I don't want to risk our friendship. And besides, I'm not interested in seeing anyone just now, so soon after Nicole." He could manage that one, couldn't he? She would buy it, wouldn't she?
"Parker," he continued, paused a moment, then yelled, "Leave me the hell alone!" That felt good. He smiled. Well, that was easy.
"Meryl…" he sighed, then after a moment quietly added, "Meryl, I really really like you, but it turns out…maybe I'm not quite yet over Nicole after all. So maybe it's best if we just…wait a bit…give it some time…and see what happens…"
That one was more difficult, but his orderly mind added in, "And actually, you know, I think if we move too fast, that's just gonna make things really weird between me and Tudge. And I don't want that to happen." After a somewhat adversarial association in middle school, Gordo was really enjoying Tudge's friendship now and didn't want to do anything to mess that up. So maybe…yeah…maybe he should just put a pause on Meryl…?
In the middle of all these thoughts, once again the phone rang. Again, he cursed himself for still leaving the portable on the kitchen counter. He listened to a few rings, then groaned and reluctantly got up off the couch, stumbling into the kitchen, without the enthusiasm of his previous trip. Yes, all these girls were definitely digging into his otherwise orderly life. But he had just about convinced himself he was ready to turn a corner. It didn't matter who this was on the other end of the line this time, he was ready to say whatever he had to say to whoever it was. He'd made a decision. He was taking back his life.
And so, picking up the phone, and without even looking at the Caller ID, he hit the Talk button.
"Hello?" he said for the second time that night.
But it was not Miranda. And it was not Parker. It was not Meryl, or Nicole, or AnnaBelle, or Alexa Kennsington that Kate said had a crush on him. It was not even his mom. It was the last person in the world he expected to hear from, and the blood in his veins both pulsed and froze at the same time, as he heard a tearful voice saying "Gordo? Gordo, is that you?"
"Lizzie…?" he whispered.
"Gordo, it's you! Oh my God, Gordo! Would you come over? Please come over, Gordo! Come now! I need to see you. I really….really….need to see you."
