Elixir Read Free

she give you her number?”
    “What’re you spying on me?” He doesn’t mind chatting with her about stuff like this but decides to mess with her anyway. With a smirk he speeds up, distancing himself from her in the pack of commuters.
    She swerves her way back to him. “Are you going to call her?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Climbing the steps, he says, “If anything I’ll text her. People don’t call each other anymore when they first meet. I’d look like a big weirdo if I did.”
    “That’s not true. Calling is still more popular.”
    “Not for kids my age. The average teenager sends sixty-three texts per day I read somewhere.”
    “Calling is so much easier. I’m not a big texter. Takes me forever to type out what I want to say. How long are the messages usually?”
    “I read in the same article the typical text is like ninety letters. Mine are around there I guess.”
    “That comes out to how many button clicks a day?”
    “Fifty-six hundred seventy,” he says, doing the math in his head in an instant.
    “So in a year it—”
    “Two million sixty-nine thousand five hundred fifty,” he says, processing the second calculation in a snap as well.
    “Boy.” She mulls over all that thumb activity as they emerge on the street, skyscrapers towering above on all sides, cold air wrapping around them, throngs of nine-to-fivers spilling out of the downtown buildings toward the subway entrance. “What were their names?”
    “Get out of here. I’m not talking about this with you anymore.”
    “Am I being annoying?”
    “A little. I forgive you though.” He pats her shoulder a couple times. “I know you can’t help it when it comes to me and girls.”
    “Just curious,” she says with exaggerated sadness, trying to be funny.
    He chuckles, then blows in his hands. “Man. When did it get so cold?”
    “I should’ve brought a real jacket.” She rubs her arms over her thin purple sweatshirt.
    “Where’s the restaurant?” he asks, spotting black clouds on the horizon. “It’s gonna pour. We should get inside this place.” As she scans her phone for the address, his own vibrates in his pocket. Pulling it out, he sees a missed call and voicemail from an unknown number. Assuming it’s a telemarketer, he puts it back.
    “This way,” she says, pointing left. Following her, he feels it vibrate again. He thinks about ignoring it but decides to answer. “Hello?” He listens for a few moments, struggling to hear on top of the rush-hour car horns, plugging his ear with his index finger. “Dr. Merzberg?” He cuts across the road into an alley away from the street noise. “Is everything all right?” His expression shifts from confused to surprised. “Now? I’m...out with my aunt.” He sighs. “Fine. I’ll meet you at the campus. You’re sure? Fine.” He hangs up.
    “You okay?” Aunt Mary asks, bewildered.
    “I have to go.”
    “Where?”
    The disappointment on her face upsets him. He realizes how much she looks forward to this night every week. “Dr. Merzberg. You’ve met him. My professor from school...he said it’s an emergency. He needs me to see him.”
    “For a class? Where?”
    “He didn’t want to talk about it over the phone. Whatever that means. Wanted to do it in person. He said he needs me to come to his office. Right now.” He’s quiet for about five seconds, pondering the professor’s possible motivation. “I’ll fill you in as soon as I know. We’ll see the movie another day. I’m sorry.”
    About an hour later he knocks on the professor’s door in the Computer Science Building, the tap of rain outside, water droplets dancing on the hallway windows. “Come in,” he says from the room, not upbeat like usual.
    He enters, noticing a half-empty bottle of Absolut Vodka on the desk. He examines his squinty-eyed, red-cheeked teacher and asks, “Are you drunk?” He doesn’t reply. “What’s this about? And why couldn’t you just tell me over