Creative, I must say. How can you go on a date with a secret person? Separately, of course.
Reading further, I learn the details of our together-separately date and I can’t help but smile as I close the journal. This is going to be fun.
I need to call Martin.
CHAPTER SIX
“This is going to sound weird.” I have Martin on speakerphone. I’m trying to put together something for dinner and figure I’ll be better at pulling this situation together if I am multitasking.
“Okay. Go for it. No judgment.” Martin’s voice echoes from the phone, along with some road sounds. He must be driving.
“I have a date with my secret person. And I want you to come.”
There is a pause long enough that I think I’ve lost connection.
“Are you there?” I lean closer to the phone, spoon in hand.
“You have a date. But you want me to be there? That doesn’t sound like a date.”
“I told you it would sound weird. We are doing something together, but separately, and I really want you to come with me.”
“Together. Separately.” It’s a statement, not a question. Or rather, two statements.
“Okay, here’s the situation: My secret person and I are going on a thrift store challenge. The task is to visit a second-hand store and go crazy putting together an outfit that’s totally out of character for us both. We’re doing it separately, but together.”
“Are you supposed to…” Martin’s voice trails off.
“Take pictures?” I can’t tell if I’m finishing Martin’s sentence, or discovering ideas of my own. It had never occurredto me that we would take pictures. “I don’t actually have a way to send pictures.” The thought presses in: I can only receive messages or respond in the journal.
“So no pictures.” I can’t tell if he sounds disappointed or encouraged.
“I’m beginning to think that my secret person is just enjoying that I’m out there doing this, having fun, trying new things.” How can I possibly explain this to Martin? “I think the goal is to live life, not to share pictures. It actually means a lot to me that I’ve been invited on this together-separately date. It makes me feel good that this person is out there having fun with this too. What kind of person does that?”
Martin seems to be thinking about this as much as I am. He says nothing for a moment. “You don’t think I’ll be a third wheel?”
I think about this briefly. “I want you there. I really feel like in the spirit of together-separate dates, it is only natural to bring a friend!”
There is a pause.
“Martin,” I say. “Do you know what my friend, Martin, would say?”
More silence.
“He’s a great, wise man and he always says…”
I hear the phone whispering a few words in Japanese. I smile.
“My date is tomorrow. I’ll meet you at 10am and then we can get some lunch after. You’re the best.”
I click the ‘end call’ button.
We arrive at the Angel House Thrift Store just after they open, and I fling open the double glass doors with a flourish. I think I might just be giddy. High fashion awaits. I step aside,holding one door, and usher Martin through the grand entrance with a slight bow. He side-eyes me as we enter.
“This is right up your alley,” he says.
I don’t respond. I just smile and waggle my eyebrows. No time for entryway chatter, there are treasures to be found. We head for the men’s section and get oriented.
One of the truest things about thrift stores is that at first glance, it looks like junk. It has a musty polyester smell. A cast-off, unwanted vibe. In order to fully appreciate what a thrift store can be, you have to be able to see things out of context. That one designer shirt looks like laundry on the rack, so you need a keen eye to see it for its true value. That’s what’s great about thrifting: learning to see things for their potential rather than their current context! I share my thinking with Martin, maybe with a tad too much giddiness, and he chuckles.
