“Mom, can you hear me?”
“The connection leaves much to be desired, but yes, I can hear you. Where are you?”
“I’m at home. Lindsay and I just got back from the most wonderful street festival.”
“Oh—how was it?”
“Wonderful.”
“I mean, why?”
“Oh sorry—I couldn’t quite hear you. It sounds like you’re rubbing a Kasugai wrapper over your receiver.”
“Never mind. How is work?”
“Work is good. It’s a little, I don’t know—”
“You never want to talk to me about your work, Eddy.”
“Mom—”
“Why is that?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to; it’s that I can’t.”
“Pish-posh.”
“It’s in my contract.”
“You know how proud of you I am, Eddy. Last weekend, I had a couple of the girls over, you know, Geri and Wendy, and all I want to do is brag about you, but I have nothing to say! ‘Well, right now, Edward lives on a boat in Japan.’ It’s all I’ve got!”
“It’s a military base.”
“Tomato, tomato.”
“Don’t you think it’s wrong that your curiosity stems from such a self-serving place?”
“Oh don’t get all high and mighty with me, Edward. I only use that as an example. I just want to make sure you’re alright!”
“I am alright.”
“Do you tell Lindsay about your work?”
“No.”
“Well, what do you two talk about?”
“Her photographs. Acrobatics. Programming. Manga.”
“I promise I won’t tell any of the girls.”
“Mom, I can’t.”
“Is this about the time I let it slip to your father that you were discharged because you broke both of your legs and not because your lieutenant felt you would be of greater service at a government agency?”
“No!”
“Oh. Oh, I see.”
“What?”
“I get it.”
“What!”
“You think this is like your own personal Truman Show?”
“What’s a Truman show?”
“Do you ever get out? Go to the movies?”
“Sure. Lindsay and I saw an Ozu retrospective last week.”
“Hollywood pictures, Eddy. It came out years ago. Jim Carrey even plays a straight man.”
“What, like in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind?”
“Sure.”
“So what?”
“You think you’re being watched.”
“Mom?”
“Eddy?”
“Can you hear me?”
“Christ. What are you using over there? Sprint? Push to Talk?”
“No, Mom. It’s Verizon. They pay for it.”
“Who’s ‘they’? Pay for what?”
“The NSA. My phone bill.”
“That’s just perfect.”
“What?”
“Is that the source of your paranoia?”
“Who said I was paranoid?
“I did. Just now. Your mother. Remember me?”
“Uh—okay, Mom, you’re breaking up again. I think I should get back to work.”
“Are you at the office now?”
“No. I’m at home. Like I said.”
“On your cell phone?”
“Yes. I’m pacing in the hallway.”
“What? You’re ‘basing’?”
“Mom?”
“What’s going on over there?”
“Can you hear me now?”
“No.”
“Maybe we should stick to emails.”