Day 3 - Three Story

Three Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

Calvin C. Coleridge was 33 years old.  His birthday was March 3^rd and his favorite year thus far was 2003.  He thought 2033 would be a great year if he survived that long.  He was eager to write down the date: 3-3-33.  That would have to wait though; it was still a long long way off.  Calvin, who often called himself Cal, was a bit obsessed with the number three.  He was the third son of a man who had been married and divorced three times.  He had attended three different colleges and had completed three different courses of study.  He knew that the number three was just a number.  That he knew.  But he always felt it was a little bit special.  He wanted it to be.  So he looked for it as much as he could.  And if you look for something, you tend to find it, even in places where it really wasn’t at all.  Three wrinkles around his eyes.  The third parking spot on the left.  Even his apartment number was three.  He had once lived in apartment twelve, and was okay counting that, as one plus two certainly equaled three, but he had found himself to be much more satisfied when apartment three opened up and he was able to move in there.

It was 3:33 in the afternoon.  Calvin didn’t care for military time.  He preferred to let 3:33 occur twice a day.  He had thought long and hard about trying to find a new favorite time, one that could occur thrice daily, but he hadn’t quite figured it out.  3:33 was a perfectly good time and he told himself he didn’t really have to worry about every little three adding up.

Calvin hadn’t left his apartment in three days, but today he felt the pressure of not wanting to become a shut-in and he had decided to go out for lunch.  He wasn’t truly agoraphobic and he wasn’t very interested in trying to develop any new psychosis, but he did like to dabble.  It was a fun little game where he got to question himself and his reality and everything he stood for.

Calvin was in line at Sundaes, Soups and Salads, an all you can eat salad bar restaurant.  He ignored where the letter “S” fell in the alphabet and focused on the triple alliteration of the name. 

Calvin chose this time to go out, thinking it fell perfectly in between lunch and dinner and his odds were increased that the restaurant would be fairly empty and he wouldn’t have to sit near other people.  Calvin was right that the restaurant was fairly empty, but he was soon to be disappointed when it came to his proximity to other human beings.

Calvin picked a booth table at the far end of the room.  There were plenty of tables and plenty of open seats through out the restaurant.  It was highly unlikely that anyone would walk so far past so many open seats just to invade his space.  But as these things so often go, someone did.  Calvin watched them with dread.  There were six of them – two mothers and four children.  No way of really knowing who belonged to whom.  Calvin hated them instantly and their lack of symmetry.

Calvin stared hard as they walked his way.  He tried to look unhappy, unwelcoming.  He wanted them to see him, take him for some strange miserable human and inherently want to steer clear.  They saw him, but it didn’t really matter.  They were coming his way and they clearly looked determined to take seat at the table closest to him.  Perfect, Calvin complained to himself.  Now, I’m going to have to watch them all shovel food into their mouths and listen to their inane conversations.

A table attendant walked up without Calvin noticing.  He was very busy failing at his current task.

“You probably wanted to sit alone, didn’t you?”

Calvin looked up.  She was simply stunning.

“Excuse me?” he stammered.

“You had that look.  I know it.  I throw it out there myself.  You’re here in the back of the room.  You don’t want to be bothered.  I can tell.”

“I…” Calvin wasn’t really sure what to say.

“It’s okay.  I’m Cindy.  You’re in my area.  I’ll leave you be, but if you want anything just let me know.”

Her smile was full of energy and life.

“I’m Cal.  You can call me Cal.”

“Good to meet you, Cal.”

Cindy, as Cal would later find out, was the youngest of three girls.  Triplets.  Youngest by only a few minutes, but youngest still.  He liked her instantly.