Free Are We There Yet? by David Levithan Page B

him gone. As soon as he's hit the # key to end, he realizes he hassomething more to say, so he
‪1s
her again and tells her he hopes she's not working too too late. Then he phones his assistant and says the same thing. He thinks about
‪1ing
Gladner or Gladner to thank them for the time off. But even he sees how ridiculous this would sound, especially since they've sent him away to think of things other than work.
    Impulsively—reluctant to hang up quite yet—Danny hits
‪3
. Then he lies back on the bed and closes his eyes.
    You have eight old messages
, the voice-mail femail says.
Your first message is one year, five months, and twelve days old.
    Cue: The
Twilight Zone
theme. Starting with a click of the tape recorder, then growing louder.
    “Yes, folks, we've entered a world of bright lights and big cities …a world of wine, women, and thongs … a world where debutantes still roam the SoHo plains in search of the perfect two-hundred-dollar T-shirt bargain. Yes, we have entered … the Danny Zone! Do-do-do-do Do-do-do-do. My name is Enigo Montoya, but you can call me Will for short. I will soon be entering the Danny Zone and need to arrange the peculiars. So PLEASE give a call back at 415-66—hell, you can use your ESP to complete the number. I eagerly await your call. If you don't call back in fifteen seconds, I will self-destruct. Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen …”
    One year, five months, and twelve days old. Which would make it one year, five months, and two days since he last saw Will, his best friend in the whole wide world—until the whole wide world intervened. He had flown in five days after the message, while Danny was caught in a tempest of work.
    “Can you make time?” Will had asked.
    “I can't make time,” Danny had responded,“but if you know someone who does make time, I'd be more than happy to buy a lot of it from him.”
    Before the call, it had been another year since they'd seen each other. In that year, Danny had stayed in the same place and had progressed in the same job. Will had lived in Spain, Nebraska, and California.He'd been a playwright, a computer consultant, and a door-to-door salesman. He had a million stories to tell. Danny only had one or two. He didn't want to bore Will with the details of his work, and at the same time he resented the way such details became boring. Will wanted to stay up late and go to clubs where the barmaids were playfully cruel. He wanted to hit galleries and pawnshops and diners where a grilled cheese still cost two dollars and the tomato came free. Danny didn't know such places. After two days, he felt he didn't know the city at all.
    “What have you been
doing?
” Will asked with mock exasperation.
    And the only answer Danny could think of was,
Living my life.
    Will wanted Danny to cut work. Danny felt he couldn't. Will wanted Danny to get a tattoo. Danny wouldn't.
    They parted on good terms, but it felt like parting, and it felt like terms. Danny hadn't meant to lose touch with Will— but all it took was one lost change-of-address card and the fact that Will refused to have e-mail. Danny heard word through friends of friends—Will was now a potter in Oregon—but he knew it wasn't enough to send word back. After all, Will knew where Danny was. It wasn't like he'd moved.
    Please press ‪4 to save, ‪6 to delete, or ‪7-3 to listen to this message again
, the voice-mail femail insists. Danny hits
‪4
.
    ‪1
—to respond—is only an option for internal calls.

While Danny dials transatlantic, Elijah walks to the top of the basilica. Not to the dome, but to the balcony. Touched fullforce by the sun, he watches over the square, tourists moving like rivulets of water, birds shifting like newsprint fingerprints. A string band concertos to the left, while a trumpeter blasts from the right. Strangely, the two sounds complement rather than conflict.
    The bell tower begins to ring. The time is marked.
    Elijah breathes. He breathes deeply and tries to