I’m impressed. “You made that? Yourself?”
“Yes! Most of the people here make their own costumes,” she says.
Wow. I had no idea.
“TheRiftwalkersis a classic,” Duffy explains. “They made a movie a couple years ago. We’ll have to watch it.”
I get a mental picture of what life with Duffy would be like.
Conventions and costumes and Crest.
I shove the thought aside.
“Have you guys met him before?” a guy wearing an Ironman costume asks from behind us in the line.
This sparks a whole conversation about Reggie Maxwell, the creator of thisgraphicnovelI’ve never heard of, a point that gets brought up three more times as more people join in. Duffy looks for ways to include me in the conversation, stopping to explain phrases I’m not familiar with or characters I don’t know.
It’s interesting to see how easily they all become friends. These people don’t know each other, but they’re all bonding over a shared passion. Minus the costumes and the character voices, these are regular people.
The thought takes me back to the day I met Lennon. I’d been so scared to strike up a conversation with anyone I didn’t know, and rightfully so, it turned out. But what I’m seeing play out in front of me is that most people want the same thing—to connect with other people.
And while this wouldn’t be my first choice for a date venue, I get the sense that Duffy is super excited to share this part of his life with me. It’s important to him, and he’s intent on helping me understand it.
It’s sweet.
When it’s our turn to meet the author—a young guy with dark, greasy hair and an unfortunate mustache—I try to step aside. But Duffy pulls me over to the table to stand next to him.
“This is my girlfriend, Claire.”
Reggie could not be more disinterested. I, on the other hand, am slightly stunned. First, because I think I’m too old to be anyone’s“girlfriend.” The word makes me think of middle school. Second, because...girlfriend? Aren’t we supposed to discuss labels before giving them?
Duffy hands over his comic book and his scrapbook, launching into a gushing display of admiration. Reggie isn’t rude exactly, but he does seem like he’d rather be anywhere but sitting at this table. He hands Duffy’s books back and thanks him with a forced smile.
“No, thank you, Reggie, really. I can’t wait to see what happens next.” Duffy presses the books to his chest. “Thank you.”
We say goodbye to the colorful characters we met in the line, and despite the “girlfriend” snafu, I have to smile. Because these people are more excited about being here, about these costumes and their subculture, than I’ve been about anything in a very long time.
“Hey, Duffy,” I say as we walk down the carpeted aisle. “About the ‘girlfriend’ thing...?”
He stops. “Oh yeah, sorry about that. It sort of popped out.”
I smile. “I just didn’t think we were at that stage yet.”
He pulls me off to the side, out of the foot traffic. “If I’ve offended you, please forgive me.” I can’t tell if he’s still playing a role or if this is actually the way he talks.
“No, I’m not offended, I just—” I smile. “I want to take things slow.”
“Slow is good,” he says. “I’m great with slow.”
I nod. “Good.”
“Good.”
We start walking again, joining a crowd in front of a large stage where we listen to two actors from a superhero movie talk about what’s next for the franchise—something exciting judging by the reactions of the crowd. When the event is done, we weave our way through groups of video game characters come to life, visiting every single exhibit in the huge space.
By the time we reach the end, my feet are sore, my stomachis growling, and all I can think is—mac ’n’ cheese sounds really good right now.
Mac ’n’ cheese. A lifetime ago.
