Page 38 of We Were Something
“Have you seen that show?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, I’ve seenStranger Things. I’m not completely disconnected from popular culture.”
Paige laughs again. “Good to know.”
There’s a slight pause, and I worry this is it, the moment things become weird and strained and clearly uncomfortable as we struggle to find anything to talk about.
“The show was great, but Ilovedthe soundtrack,” Paige continues. “I have it saved as one of my favorite albums on Spotify. It’s such a jam to listen to on long drives—The Bangles, The Clash, Bon Jovi, Cyndi Lauper. It completely changed the music game for me.”
My lips tilt up at the sides as I listen to her ramble. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m a total music buff. I love it. My dad works in the entertainment industry so I’ve been going to live concerts since I was barely old enough to remember, but a lot of what’s out right now feels very…I don’t know, produced, I think. And these hits from the 80s just sound like people who love music are having fun. Writing songs, singing them, performing. My friends and I went to a Cyndi Lauper concert last year and I swear to you—most amazing experience of my life.”
“God, thinking about music from those bands…I mean, I was born in the early 80s, so it’s not like I was a teenager when those songs were out. But I can still remember borrowing my mom’s tapes and listening to them on my yellow Walkman.”
“What’s a Walkman?”
I start laughing, and I can hear her join me on the other end of the line.
“It’s a portable tape player. And then came the Discman, which was a portable CD player. And then the iPod.”
“Ah. I think I remember them having a Walkman at some point inStranger Things.”
I laugh again. “Using a TV show to understand my childhood…god, I’ve never felt so old.”
“That’s why you’ve gotta hang out with someone a little younger, like me,” she teases. “I’ll help keep you fresh.”
Snorting, I shake my head. “I don’t need to be kept fresh. I’m happy being a crotchety old man, thank you.”
“Psht. You’re notold,” she insists. “How old are you? 40?”
My hand presses to my chest. “Ouch. 39. I won’t be 40 until December.”
“Well, regardless…you’re notold. You’reseasoned. Like a delicious bottle of wine or an expensive cheese.”
“What kind of cheese?”
“Oh a parmesan, no doubt.”
“Well…at least you didn’t say I was some funky-smelling kind.”
“Absolutely not. Funky cheeses are for funky people. Andyou, Dr. Becker, are much more traditional. You seem like a man who enjoys routines. Straight-laced. Totally a parm, if you ask me.”
I chuckle. “I didn’t realize it was so obvious. Now I’ll know how to answer that question if I’m asked in an interview.”
“Why would you be doing job interviews?” she asks. “Didn’t you just start working at Roth Memorial like…a few months ago?”
“Not job interviews, regular interviews. Like…next week I have one withSouth Bay Lifestyle.”
“Oooooooh, so fancy!” she exclaims. “Have you already picked out what you’re going to wear?”
Licking my lips, I make another mental note to drop off my suit at the dry cleaners in the morning before heading into work.
“Yeah, the suit I wore at the gala.”
When there’s a long pause, I pull my phone away from my ear, wondering if the call dropped. But when the screen lights up, I see we’re still connected.
“Paige?”
