Becoming Grey: Episode 32

Chapter 32 

February 10–11, 2022 

Callie was comparing two measurements on her notebook when her phone lit up beside it. She had spent most of the evening trying to work out how much clearance the revised clamp needed, and the latest photograph from her dad had introduced another question about the cable. She reached for the phone expecting him to have sent a seventh picture of the same bracket, this time from an angle that might actually be useful. 

Movies Friday? 

Ryan. 

She read the message, set her phone down, and returned to the drawing. Ten seconds later, she picked it up again. The question should have been simple. Ryan liked movies. She liked Ryan. Tomorrow was Friday. Unfortunately, she could already think of several ways to complicate it. Did he mean just the two of them, or was he inviting Juna too? Was it a date? If it was, did he expect her to know that without saying so? Worse, was she being ridiculous for wanting it to be one? They had gotten coffee together on Monday, and he had come over for dinner before that, but neither occasion had come with a label. She was reasonably certain there was something between them. She would have preferred slightly better evidence. 

Across the table, Maggie put down the ruler she had been using on her architectural model. “Who’s that?” 

“Ryan. He asked if I want to go to the movies tomorrow.” 

“Nice.” Maggie went back to examining a piece of cardboard. “Are you going?” 

“I think so.” 

“You think so?” 

“I’m trying to figure out whether he’s asking me on a date.” 

Maggie looked up again. “You could ask him.” 

“I’m not asking him that.” 

“Then you could say yes and see what happens.” She adjusted the edge of her model. “I assume you’re interested, considering you’ve been staring at your phone like it’s going to provide additional information.” 

Callie decided not to dignify that. She began typing a reply explaining that she needed to check with Maggie about watching Juna, asking what time Ryan had in mind, and mentioning that she had classwork to finish. Halfway through, she reread it and deleted the entire thing. There was no reason to respond to a three-word message with a scheduling memorandum. 

Yeah. What are we seeing? 

Ryan replied with two options: a comedy or a science-fiction thriller called Mercury Divide. The trailer for the second film featured a damaged satellite, an argument in a control room, and at least three things that Callie suspected weren’t possible. It looked entertaining, even if not necessarily for the reasons its producers intended. She chose that one, checked that Maggie would be home, and agreed to a five o’clock showing. Ryan said he’d come by at four-twenty. 

“Well?” Maggie asked after Callie set the phone down. 

“We’re going.” 

“Great.” 

“You sound awfully pleased about that.” 

“I’m pleased you finally answered him. I was worried your engineering education had made ordinary communication impossible.” 

Callie returned to her notebook, but it took several minutes to realize she had copied the wrong dimension. She had survived childbirth, moving across the country with a toddler, and a semester of college engineering. Apparently a text from Ryan Stevens was still capable of making her stupid. 

* * * 

On Friday afternoon, Callie changed her shirt twice. The first one was comfortable and looked perfectly acceptable when she put it on, but she noticed a faint mark near the hem and decided she’d rather wear something else. The second was clean, though she wasn’t sure she liked it with her jeans. She returned to the first, remembered why she’d changed, and finally settled on the second. This had taken more thought than she’d put into getting dressed for several presentations at school. 

Juna appeared in the doorway while Callie was brushing her hair. She had Gus tucked under one arm and the purple monster book in her other hand, which Callie suspected she would be asking Maggie to read later. 

“Where are you going, Mommy?” 

“To the movies.” Callie put down the brush, then caught herself checking whether the back of her hair was lying flat. 

“With Ryan?” 

“Yep.” 

“Can I come?” 

“Not tonight, honey. It’s a grown-up movie. You’re staying here with Aunt Maggie, and she’s going to make pasta with you.” Callie crouched to straighten Juna’s shirt. “Then you get to choose something to watch before bed.” 

“Monster movie.” 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Juna considered the arrangement, then looked at the clothes laid across Callie’s bed. “Is Ryan your boyfriend?” 

“No.” The answer came out a little too quickly. “We’re friends.” 

“Like Maggie?” 

“Sort of.” 

“Maggie lives here.” 

“She does.” 

“Do you like Ryan?” 

Callie looked at her daughter, who was waiting patiently for what seemed to her a straightforward answer. “Yeah, sweetheart. I do.” 

“I like Ryan too.” Juna lifted the book. “He called the monster a cat.” 

“I remember.” 

“He’s not a cat.” 

“You should probably remind him next time.” 

Satisfied, Juna wandered out of the room. Callie watched her go and caught her own expression in the mirror. Maggie had watched Juna plenty of times, but going out required more than simply deciding she wanted to go. She needed to know the evening routine was covered, that her phone was charged, and that she’d be home when she said she would. She checked those things before leaving for class too. Tonight, however, she seemed to be checking everything twice. 

Maggie was in the kitchen filling a saucepan when Callie came out with her jacket. Juna stood beside her at the counter, explaining how much pasta they needed. Maggie gave Callie a look that suggested she had already heard a detailed account of the evening’s plans. 

“Pajamas are on her bed,” Callie said. “She had a snack at three, so she may not be hungry right away. And the fruit’s in the fridge if she wants some later.” 

“We’ve done dinner before,” Maggie reminded her. “We’ll be fine.” 

“I know. I’m just saying.” 

The knock came before she could find anything else to mention. Ryan stood in the hallway wearing dark jeans and a button-down shirt beneath his jacket. His hair looked a little neater than usual. Not dramatically different, but enough that Callie noticed, which was probably fair given the amount of time she’d spent choosing her own shirt. 

“Hey,” he said. “Ready?” 

“Yeah. Just about.” She stepped aside to pick up her purse, and Juna came hurrying over from the kitchen before they could leave. 

“Ryan! We’re having pasta.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“You can’t have any.” 

Ryan crouched a little to look at her. “That’s disappointing.” 

“You’re going to the movies.” 

“Right. I forgot my other dinner arrangements. What are you watching?” 

“Monsters. You should watch it.” She held up the book as evidence. “The purple one.” 

“I’d like to. I’ll have to ask your mom when we can do that.” 

Callie appreciated that he hadn’t simply promised something she would have to arrange later. “We’ll see,” she told Juna. “Now let Maggie finish dinner, okay?” 

Juna nodded, then instructed Ryan not to watch a bad movie. He promised to try, which seemed to satisfy her. Callie hugged her goodbye and reminded her to listen to Maggie before following Ryan into the hallway. 

“Have fun,” Maggie called. 

“We will,” Callie said. 

“Enjoy your date.” 

Callie turned around, but Maggie had already shut the door. Ryan glanced at her as they headed for the stairs, and she informed him that Maggie was being annoying. He took her word for it. 

The theater was fifteen minutes away, in a shopping center Callie passed regularly but had never visited. They parked near the entrance and walked inside through a pair of glass doors. Warm air smelling of popcorn met them immediately. The carpet was a dreadful pattern of red and yellow shapes, an arcade machine flashed in one corner, and a line of people waited beneath the enormous showtime board. 

“You really like coming to theaters?” Callie asked as they joined the line. “We could have streamed something at home.” 

“We could, but it’s not the same. You’ve got the screen, the sound, and people reacting to things together. Even the trailers are better here. Nobody’s pausing to check a message or get something from the kitchen.” Ryan surveyed the lobby with obvious approval. “Besides, you can’t duplicate the carpet.” 

Callie looked down. “I certainly wouldn’t want to.” 

“It’s part of the experience.” 

“You sound approximately eighty-seven years old.” 

“I’m twenty-one.” 

“That makes the speech worse.” 

He laughed, then mentioned that he felt much the same way about physical books. Callie told him she remembered that particular opinion very well and didn’t require the extended version. He insisted she was missing out, which only encouraged her to tease him about planning to become a cranky old man several decades early. 

When they reached the ticket counter, Callie took out her wallet. Ryan noticed and shook his head. 

“I’ve got the tickets.” 

“I can pay for mine.” 

“I know. But I asked you out. I can buy the tickets.” 

Callie stopped with her wallet halfway out of her purse. Ryan seemed to realize what he’d said at the same moment she did, and his expression shifted into an uncertain smile. 

“So this is a date?” she asked. 

“I was hoping it was.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay good, or okay unfortunate misunderstanding?” 

“Okay good,” Callie said, smiling. 

“Right. Good.” Ryan turned toward the clerk and ordered two tickets before either of them could make the situation more embarrassing. Callie put her wallet away, surprised by how relieved she felt. Apparently the answer had been available all along, provided somebody was willing to say it aloud. 

She bought the popcorn while Ryan collected their drinks, though she complained that the theater was charging an unreasonable amount for a bag of corn. They headed toward their auditorium, passing a wall-mounted screen displaying a Smallara public safety announcement. An illustration showed a Little standing beside a full-sized hand as an announcer reviewed safe handling and the importance of contacting qualified personnel after a reduction. Callie recognized the advice from her Guardian training and found herself inspecting the illustration, comparing it with what she’d learned while working with Oliver. 

Ryan had grown quieter beside her. He watched the screen until the announcement ended, then turned toward the auditorium entrance. 

“Everything okay?” she asked. 

“Yeah.” He gave her a small smile. “Come on. We’ll miss the trailers.” 

She followed without pressing him. Smallara announcements were hardly cheerful, and there was no reason to make anything of a momentary change in his mood. 

Their seats were near the center of the auditorium, far enough back to see the whole screen without craning their necks. Callie slipped her purse beneath her seat and checked the message Maggie had sent. It was a picture of Juna eating pasta while Gus sat beside her plate, apparently expecting a portion of his own. Callie replied, silenced her phone, and settled back as the lights dimmed. She knew Maggie would call if anything was wrong. For once, there was nothing else she needed to do before enjoying herself. 

Mercury Divide was better than its trailer suggested, although it committed its first serious engineering offense before the opening sequence had finished. Callie watched an emergency crew attempt to repair a damaged communications satellite, increasingly convinced that nobody involved in the production had consulted someone who knew what a power system actually did. The technician responsible for most of the trouble tried hitting a control panel with a wrench, which caused the room to lose power. Ryan laughed so suddenly and wholeheartedly that Callie turned to look at him. He was still grinning when the character began pretending he hadn’t caused the problem. 

“I’ve considered doing that,” she whispered. 

“Hitting something with a wrench?” 

“Not anything that expensive.” 

Later, a character moved one cable between two terminals and announced that he’d restored power to the entire station. Callie leaned toward Ryan before she could help herself. 

“That’s not how it works.” 

“Shh.” 

“He would have fried the whole system.” 

The lights came back on in the film. Ryan covered his mouth to keep from laughing at her expression. 

“You’re ruining movies with engineering,” he whispered. 

“The movie ruined engineering first.” 

He offered her the popcorn as a peace offering, and she accepted it. They both reached into the container a little later, their fingers brushing before Callie automatically pulled hers away. Ryan smiled but didn’t comment. After another scene, she noticed his hand resting on the shared armrest beside the popcorn. She let her fingers touch his again. He turned his palm upward, and she slipped her hand into it without looking away from the screen. 

The movie continued, full of terrible decisions and occasional genuinely funny moments. Callie laughed with Ryan, complained quietly about one more impossible repair, and otherwise let herself enjoy the film. She wasn’t thinking about the dishes at home or the drawing she’d left unfinished on the kitchen table. Juna was with Maggie, and Callie would be back in time to hear about the monster movie. For now she could sit in a dark theater, hold Ryan’s hand, and enjoy two hours that didn’t have to be useful to anyone else. 

By the time the credits began, she’d decided the film was a thoroughly entertaining disaster. Ryan helped her collect their things and waited while she retrieved her purse. 

“Well?” he asked as they followed the other moviegoers into the corridor. 

“Terrible engineering. Decent movie.” 

“You laughed.” 

“I can recognize technical incompetence and still have fun.” 

“I’ll remember that.” 

She took his hand again as they headed outside. This time neither of them hesitated. 

* * * 

The air had cooled considerably, and Callie zipped her jacket while they walked toward the parking lot. Ryan glanced at a small restaurant across from the theater and asked if she was hungry. She was, and Maggie had already confirmed that bedtime was under control, so they crossed over for sandwiches rather than ending the evening in the parking lot. 

They found a booth beside the window. Callie ordered grilled cheese and fries, Ryan ordered a sandwich, and once the server had gone, he asked about the sensor problem she’d mentioned at coffee earlier in the week. 

“You remembered that?” she asked. 

“Some of it. You said the cable was pulling the assembly out of alignment.” 

“Exactly.” Callie reached for a napkin and used her finger to sketch the movement against it. She explained the revised clamp and how Oliver had helped her reproduce the fault. Ryan asked enough questions that she could tell he was following, even if some of the electrical details were unfamiliar to him. She caught herself giving the long version, apologized, and received a puzzled look in return. 

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked. “I asked.” 

“I get carried away.” 

“I noticed. It’s interesting.” 

She smiled and put down the napkin. “Well, Professor Frank wants me to demonstrate it at the student project afternoon this spring. Assuming it actually works by then.” 

“You have to let me know when that is.” 

“You want to come?” 

“Sure. I want to see whether the thing you’ve been fighting all week finally behaves itself.” 

Callie laughed. “It’s an engineering demonstration, not a sporting event.” 

“Then I’ll try not to cheer too loudly.” 

Their food arrived, and the conversation shifted to his day at the bookstore. Ryan told her about a customer who had spent nearly twenty minutes searching for a novel with a lighthouse on the cover, only to remember afterward that she wasn’t certain it was a lighthouse. He’d eventually found it because she remembered one character’s name. Callie suggested the store needed a special section for books customers consistently described incorrectly, and Ryan said it would probably require a second building. 

They talked about his work while they ate. He liked helping people find books, particularly older titles they thought were no longer available. Callie could understand the appeal. There was something satisfying about solving a problem that had been irritating somebody for weeks, even if the problem was locating a book instead of fixing a sensor. She liked that Ryan talked about the job without making excuses for it. He seemed happy there. 

When they agreed to split a slice of apple pie, Ryan asked whether Juna had shown her purple monster book to the children at preschool. Callie looked up, surprised he remembered. Juna had mentioned it while they were in the bookstore, more interested in explaining the creature’s three eyes than in discussing anything else. 

“She did. Apparently her teacher had to hear the whole story.” Callie smiled. “And apparently you still owe her an apology for calling it a cat.” 

“I admitted I was wrong.” 

“That’s not the same as an apology.” 

“I’ll work on it.” 

Ryan asked how Juna liked preschool and listened while Callie described her latest collection of pictures, most of which she insisted on sending to her grandparents. He remembered that she’d promised Gus a friend, and Callie explained that the friend had since changed from a rabbit to a dinosaur. None of this was particularly remarkable conversation, but she noticed that he wasn’t waiting for a chance to change the subject. He remembered what Juna told him and seemed to enjoy talking about her even when she wasn’t there to demand his attention. 

That mattered more to Callie than she thought he realized. 

* * * 

They drove home through quieter streets, Ryan occasionally pointing out something they’d passed earlier while Callie complained that the movie’s ending had violated nearly every rule established in its own first half. He told her she could write a letter to the producers. She informed him that would require several pages and diagrams, and she doubted anyone involved would appreciate receiving it. 

At the apartment building, he walked upstairs with her. She had checked her phone in the car and knew Juna was in pajamas, though Maggie reported that the choice of bedtime book had become a subject of lengthy debate. There was still time to say goodnight if Juna hadn’t fallen asleep already. 

Callie held Ryan’s hand as they went down the hallway. It had been a long time since she’d gone out with someone she liked, and even longer since she’d done it without carrying Juna’s baby bag or checking whether she needed something. The last person she’d dated had been Myles, when the two of them were fourteen. Back then, spending time with a boy mostly meant working around her parents’ rules and wondering what Maggie would tease her about afterward. She’d had no idea how much different life could become in a few years. 

Now she had a daughter who asked direct questions and remembered every promise anyone made to her. If Callie let someone become an important part of her life, that person would eventually become important to Juna as well. She’d never needed Ryan to take on the role of a parent, but she couldn’t imagine dating someone who treated her daughter as an inconvenience. Ryan hadn’t done that once. He talked to Juna instead of around her, took her interests seriously, and knew better than to promise something without checking with Callie first. She wasn’t keeping a list of requirements, but she had noticed. 

They stopped outside her door. Ryan glanced toward it, then back at her, and she found herself reluctant to let go of his hand. 

“I had a really good time,” he said. 

“Me too. Even with the terrible satellite.” 

“I’ll choose something less offensive next time.” 

“Don’t. I had fun complaining about it.” 

He smiled, then hesitated. “Can I kiss you?” 

Callie felt herself smile back. “Yeah.” 

Ryan moved closer, one hand settling lightly at her waist. She rested hers against the front of his jacket and leaned toward him. Their lips met in a brief kiss, a little awkward because Callie was still holding her purse and wasn’t sure where to put it. When they moved apart, Ryan was smiling at her. She caught the front of his jacket again and kissed him a second time, less briefly now that she’d worked out where her hands belonged. 

“That was nice,” Ryan said when they separated. 

Callie laughed at the earnestness of it. “Yeah. It was.” 

“I mean, I thought it would be. I just…” He shook his head. “I’ve apparently used up all my ability to say intelligent things tonight.” 

“That’s okay. You did pretty well earlier.” 

“Mostly?” 

“Mostly.” 

He grinned. “So, second date?” 

Callie pretended to think. “You’re assuming this one went well.” 

“You kissed me.” 

“Weak evidence.” 

“Callie.” 

She laughed and squeezed his hand. “Yeah. Second date.” 

Ryan kissed her once more, then stepped back and said goodnight. Callie watched him head toward his apartment before unlocking her own door. He looked back once, caught her still watching, and smiled. She smiled back and went inside. 

The living room lamp was on, Maggie’s sketchbook lay open on the table, and one of Juna’s shoes had somehow ended up beneath the couch. Callie hung up her jacket and put down her purse. She was still standing by the door, smiling to herself, when Juna appeared from the hallway in her pajamas with Gus beneath one arm. 

“Mommy!” She hurried over for a hug, then immediately wanted to know whether Ryan had seen the spaceships and whether the movie had been better than her monsters. Callie crouched and assured her that the spaceships had been very interesting, though she’d have to ask Ryan which movie he preferred. Maggie appeared behind Juna with a bedtime book and gave Callie one of those looks that meant she knew exactly how the evening had gone, regardless of what anyone told her. 

Juna studied Callie’s face. “Was it a date?” 

Callie looked toward Maggie, who was making no attempt to hide her smile. Yesterday she might have tried to explain the difference between having a friend and having a boyfriend, or offered some answer that was technically correct without being especially useful. Tonight she didn’t need to. 

“Yeah,” she said. “It was.” 

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