Hung Up (2 page)

Lucy:
Yeah, that makes sense. It sounds more masculine. The Gilman piece is more about women’s issues.

James:
I wouldn’t mind writing an essay about women’s issues. I’m avoiding it for another reason altogether.

Lucy:
What’s that?

James:
I hate the scene where the woman snaps. All
that crawling around on the floor. When people lose their minds, even in literature, it creeps me out.

Lucy:
Good to know. Hey, I’ve never read Crane’s story. So don’t say anything that will spoil the ending.

James:
I promise not to tell you the order in which all the characters die.

Lucy:
That wasn’t funny.

James:
It was to me.

Lucy:
Then you’re easy.

James:
I’ll take that as a compliment. But enough about my sex life. Let’s get to the essay. Crane’s story is about four men adrift at sea in a small boat: a cook, an oiler, a correspondent, and an injured captain. The basic theme is man versus nature. My teacher wants me to write an essay that examines the psychology of one of the characters, and explore how his choices determine his fate.

Lucy:
That story sounds sexist. There are no women on the boat? What about the cook?

James:
No, the cook is a dude. And the story is based on the writer’s real life story. Crane was on a ship that wrecked off the coast of Florida. So it’s not so much that the story is sexist, it’s that seafaring is sexist in general.

Lucy:
Okay. Which guy did you choose?

James:
I think I’m going to choose the sea, and examine how its force deprives the characters of the opportunity to make choices.

Lucy:
So you’re avoiding the question altogether. Is this strategy born out of late-night panic or a long-standing desire to challenge authority?

James:
Neither. I think the question assumes that the characters have power over their lives, and I think the story sort of suggests that these four guys bobbing in the ocean are at the mercy of something that doesn’t give a shit about them. It doesn’t matter what they do. The sea will determine their fates. It doesn’t matter what they choose.

Lucy:
Seems fatalistic.

James:
It’s naturalistic. It’s what Crane and lots of other writers of his generation were all about.

Lucy:
I guess. That’s depressing.

James:
I’m not saying that’s what I think. But that’s what Crane thought. Barring being adrift at sea or clobbered by an avalanche, I think people pretty much determine their fates. I think people choose their lives.

Lucy:
I don’t know. I think sometimes things happen to people that are beyond their control. Things that they don’t want to happen.

James:
I know what you’re saying. Sometimes random shit happens, but for the most part, people are where they are in life because they chose to be there.

Lucy:
That’s not quite what I meant. It’s late, James.

James:
Yeah, but I think I’m going to write what I said about the sea. And I’m going to include your idea about things happening to people beyond their control. Is that okay?

Lucy:
Sure. What you said about the story sounds good. It’s thoughtful. You should write that down.

James:
Shit. I should’ve been taking notes while we talked.

Lucy:
Just write it down now. I’ll let you go. Okay?

James:
Yeah. Thanks, Lucy. I like talking to you. Hey, you can call me anytime.

Lucy:
Okay. But I probably won’t. Bye.

March 27, 5:45 p.m.

James:
Lucy, you never told me how camping went. Did you really go camping in March? That’s insane. I mean, I don’t think that you’re insane. Or your family. Don’t take it that way. I usually go camping in June, July, or August. But it’s always real buggy. I end up wearing a thick coat of Deet. I guess you don’t have that problem when you camp in March. Do you sleep in yurts? Or snow caves? Just checking in with you.

March 28, 5:51 p.m.

James:
Lucy, I feel a little bad about my message yesterday.
I don’t think that you’re insane. I just wanted to reiterate that. Because we don’t know each other. And tone can be misunderstood. You seem like a nice person. Who is totally sane. Okay. I think I need to stop talking.

March 28, 7:45 p.m.

Lucy:
James, you certainly have a way with words. And tone. I actually had to look up the word “yurt” in a dictionary. No, I never went camping. Snow caves hold no appeal for me. As for sleeping in a yurt, no, I’ve never camped in a circular, domed, portable tent used by the nomadic Mongols of central Asia. A yurt. And you think
I’m
insane? My family and I are headed to Yellowstone in May. I’m the sort of girl who plans ahead.

March 28, 8:28 p.m.

James:
Lucy, you just called. Where did you go? You’re funny. Thanks for calling me. I’ll be up late. You should call me back.

March 31, 3:32 p.m.

James:
I got an A on my paper. I’m not calling to brag. Okay, I am calling to brag a little. But I wanted to tell you thanks. And if you’re ever stuck, you should call me. Even if you’re stuck in a car. Not stuck inside a car. I mean you
should call me if you get a car stuck in something. Like mud. Or snow. Or a lake. Actually, if your car gets stuck in a lake, you should try to get out on your own right away and also dial 911. Why do my messages to you always sound weird?

March 31, 5:35 p.m.

Lucy:
You must think I’m a lousy driver. Mud? Snow? A lake? I am an excellent driver. If I wanted, I bet I could be a long-haul trucker. A refrigerator rig and everything. Seriously. If I wanted. And the reason your messages sound weird is because they are weird.

March 31, 5:37 p.m.

James:
Where did you go? You just called me. And what the hell is a refrigerator rig? Do you come from a family of truckers? Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Just wondering.

March 31, 5:41 p.m.

Lucy:
I think I’m in a dead zone. I’m on a walk. And where are you?
You
just called
me
. A refrigerator rig is pretty self-explanatory. It’s a refrigerated semitruck. It’s how perishable products get hauled across our great nation. No, I don’t come from a family of truckers.
No one in my family even owns a trucker hat. In fact, no one in my family owns a car that has more than four cylinders.

March 31, 5:44 p.m.

James:
You
just
called me. How can you be in a dead zone? Where are you walking? The Swiss Alps? You are the only girl I’ve ever met who has said the word “cylinder.” It makes me wonder what other automotive verbiage you’ve got stuffed inside of you. Hey, when you get this, call me back.

March 31, 9:23 p.m.

James:
You never called me back. Is this a sign of things to come? Lucy, Lucy, Lucy. Have you forgotten how to use your phone?

April 1, 6:45 a.m.

James:
What are you doing right now?

Lucy:
I’m getting ready for school.

James:
Me too.

Lucy:
Then why are you calling me?

James:
Because it’s the first day of April.

Lucy:
Uh-huh.

James:
And somebody might try to play a trick on you. You know, April Fools’ Day.

Lucy:
Are you going to play a trick on me?

James:
No. I’m warning you.

Lucy:
Do you know something you’re not telling me?

James:
No. How do you mean?

Lucy:
James Rusher, you are a random person.

James:
I know. So what are you going to wear to school today?

Lucy:
Are you seriously asking me that question?

James:
Yeah.

Lucy:
Probably jeans and some sort of shirt.

James:
So you don’t wear skirts?

Lucy:
Are you a pervert?

James:
I wouldn’t say that.

Lucy:
I wear skirts sometimes. It looks like a cold day today. Actually, I know it’s going to be a cold day. I checked NOAA.

James:
You checked what?

Lucy:
NOAA. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s website. It’s the best way to check your local forecast.

James:
I learn something new every time I talk to you, Lucy.

Lucy:
Thanks.

James:
So how cold is it supposed to be? Maybe you could wear two pairs of tights.

Lucy:
I want to wear jeans.

James:
That’s cool. I’m going to wear jeans too.

Lucy:
Do you wear tight jeans, James?

James:
Now who’s the pervert!

Lucy:
I was joking.

James:
My jeans are loose enough that I can bend over and touch my toes. How about you?

Lucy:
Oh my god. You did not just ask me that.

James:
What’s wrong?

Lucy:
You’re trying to find out how far I can bend over.

James:
No, I’m not.

Lucy:
Yes you are. You are such a guy. Are you afraid that I’m fat? That you’re wasting your day minutes on a porker?

James:
I think you took my question the wrong way.

Lucy:
You’re the reason girls thrust their fingers down their throats!

James:
Calm down. If you can’t touch your toes, that’s no problem. Toe touches are overrated. There’s a kid in my PE class whose kneecaps are too close together and he can’t bend over very far at all. It’s not about his fitness level. It’s about his kneecaps.

Lucy:
My kneecaps are normal and I can touch my toes just fine. I don’t have any trouble bending over.

James:
I didn’t mean it that way.

Lucy:
Some part of your man/boy brain totally meant it that way.

James:
I hope you have a good day at school today, Lucy.

Lucy:
I’m not fat.

James:
I never said you were. And for the record, I’m not fat either. I play basketball.

Lucy:
I’m on the track team. And, for the record, I’ve got above-average endurance, strength, and flexibility.

James:
Above-average strength? I hope we never end up in a fight. Hey, it sounds like you’ve got pretty decent kneecaps, too.

Lucy:
You’re weird.

James:
I’m also late. I’ve got to go. I was sort of hoping you would call and play an April Fools’ Day joke on me.

Lucy:
That’s not my style. Are you disappointed?

James:
A little.

Lucy:
So you’re telling me that you like a tease.

James:
Maybe.

Lucy:
Good to know, James.

April 1, 5:45 p.m.

James:
Somebody played a joke on me today. Her
name is Beth Howie. We used to date in eighth grade. That’s not really part of the joke, but I wanted you to understand that there’s some history here. It was lunch. She told me there was an injured rabbit in a bush. She always really liked rabbits, and I thought maybe I could help it out. So I put on my coat and went outside and started looking at this bush. Well, there wasn’t an injured rabbit in there. There was a remote control car covered with brown fur. Anyway, I’m staring at the bush and then Clay Wormser makes the fur car race out at me. So I jump back, and the fur car zooms into the street and gets hit by a truck. I swear to god. It got nailed by a semi and smashed into a million fur-covered bits. And Clay is screaming, “My car! My car!” And Beth covers her eyes with her hands and almost starts to cry. And I say, “Was that a refrigerator rig?” And Clay says, “No, it was my frigging car.” And I say, “I know that. I meant the truck. It looked like a refrigerator rig.” So he squints his eyes and walks into the road and starts gathering the clobbered pieces of his car, and he says, “How do you know anything about trucks?” And I say, “A friend of mine who lives in Montpelier has thought about becoming a long-haul trucker.” Anyway, I thought I should call and tell you that story. Hey, do you ever talk about
me
with your friends?

April 1, 6:05 p.m.

Lucy:
Technically, I live in East Montpelier. And you dated a girl whose last name is Howie?

April 1, 6:10 p.m.

James:
I sure did.

April 4, 7:35 p.m.

Lucy:
I’m stuck.

James:
Oh my god! In your car? In a lake? I said to dial 911.

Lucy:
I’m being serious here.

James:
Me too. How high is the water? Wait. Maybe you’re not stuck in a lake. Are you trapped in a yurt?

Lucy:
Ha-ha-ha. It’s an essay.

James:
Why are high school students always being forced to write essays?

Lucy:
I thought you liked reading.

James:
Can’t I digest a book without being compelled to
write an essay? Can’t the education system in this country trust me to do that?

Lucy:
I feel like you’re joking. But you’re using your serious voice.

James:
Of course I’m being serious.