The First Conversation

She laughed. Good, he thought. Mission accomplished. He felt weird. Mission accomplished? Is this how we talk about interpersonal relationships now? Like I’m pursuing some sort of objective, not just — I don’t know — connecting with other humans? Why am I saying “we” in my

internal dialogue? Who else is here? Speaking of which, there’s someone else here. Should I listen?

She finished speaking. That was too bad, he was just getting ready to listen. Maybe force a laugh? But what if I laugh and she had said something serious? Or she says “what?” as if she wanted me to explain what’s funny, and then I’d have to fake it. But could I really ask her to repeat herself? Geeze. This is turning into a long silence. Take a sip! Take a sip!

He took a sip, and forced a little chuckle. Bad timing. The chuckle occurred just moments before the swallowing portion of the sip, and the chuckle swiftly turned wet, as did his chin. Not a good look. Boy, did he look silly. Almost silly enough to laugh for real. Whoops! I still haven’t swallowed! Did I just double down on this spit-laugh? What am I even laughing at? Well, I know

the second laugh’s reason, but not the first. Hasn’t it been like half an hour since I’ve even

spoken? What is this experience like for her? She speaks, I laugh and spit thirty seconds later, then laugh and big spit, now wipe and gather? Ew. Say something good!

“Sorry,” he said. “First time drinking water.”