I know it still needs a lot of work. It's titled "Snart Decisions", which is also a play on words because of smart-phones.
Prologue, 2016
The man sits alone at a picnic table in a park. He is surrounded by trees on one side of his picnic table and ducks on the other, but he has no awareness of this, or anything at all for that matter. He is completely zoned out, for no particular reason. It is probably just a reaction to all the stress he has had to deal with in the past year. He was supposed to be somewhere else, but drove to the park just to have some peace. He was supposed to be...
Supposed to be...
Suddenly his iPhone rings. The ringtone itself is nice: it's the Nokia ringtone he fell in love with and which his son downloaded for him. It's the vibration that jolts him.
"What's up?" he says in an exhausted voice.
"Charles!" It's Helen. The angry bitch he married, it seems of late, he thinks scornfully.
"What did I do this time?"
"I'll tell you what you did! You were supposed to collect Cameron from art club a half hour ago! He tried to call you, but you wouldn't pick up!"
Charles groans.
"I've got him, don't worry about that," Helen replies in an annoyed tone. "But how could you do this to your own son?"
Charles doesn't know what to say or how to answer. "We're all humans and make mistakes," he mumbles.
"I made salami sandwiches for myself and the kids," Helen informs him. "There may be some ham left for when you get home." Charles doesn't like salami, Helen knows it, and he knows that she knows it.
"See you," Charles says weakly, then, when he's off the phone, he yells, "SHIT!" Nobody can hear him; if they did, who, in this messed-up world, would even give a damn? Probably a mother with a three-year-old yelling not to swear in front of her child, or an elderly lady screeching at him that the devil is in him, or something.
Charles thinks of Helen. They used to get on very well, they did, for 15 years. Long enough to have a 13-year-old son, Cameron, and 11-year-old identical twin girls, Ruth and Anna. Even last year, Helen would have reacted more calmly; she would have tried to reassure him that forgetting to pick up Cameron was no big deal. She would not have fed the kids salami; she would have made something, anything, that the whole family could eat. Charles knows that it is his fault, it's all his fault.
As he gets up to go back into his beat-up Mustang, Charles takes his phone, goes to the duck pond, and does something he has never thought he would ever do before in his life: he gently throws the phone, which lands into the water with a great splash.
One Year Ago to the Day...
"Sir? Sir!"
The man working at the small sandwich shop is growing impatient. He is tired, and his next customer has obviously put on too much Nautica cologne, much to his annoyance. He could try to overlook the cologne, but the man, by the name of Charles Culvert, is not answering him. This is not because he is a jerk, but because he is glued to his iPhone screen and seems fascinated by whatever is on it. Rolf, the sandwich man, is not sure what to do. As he debates his options, the girl standing behind Charles taps him on the shoulder. She is about 20, while Charles is about 50.
Charles finally looks up. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he says, then proceeds to order a turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich, jalapenos, and mustard. He has every intention of going back to playing around with his new iPhone, which he only received the day before. Ordinarily, he would have been one to just stick to a flip phone, even a pager, but his son Cameron, then 12, had convinced him that this was the only way possible he could keep in contact with his family. He is trying to figure out how to add people into the contacts app.
Somehow, Charles notices the girl behind him. It must be that young actress look, the blonde hair, the blue eyes, that makes him look away from his new device. And the way she is ordering...
"I'll have a pulled pork and salami sandwich on tomato bread," she says. "I'll have a slice of cheddar and half a slice of pepper jack. I want three-quarters of it to have olive oil, and one quarter to be vinegar and mustard. Please put more vinegar on than mustard."
Charles is amazed. He is even more amazed when she turns to him.
"Hi, I'm Charles," he says a bit nervously.
"I'm Caroline!" Her voice is sweet and confident. "Do you need help with your iPhone? I am addicted to mine!"
"Yes, please," he says. "I hate the damn thing!"
Caroline helps Charles put his friend Mason's information into the phone.
"Do you know how contact cards work?" she asks.
"No." He is uncertain but fascinated, and she knows it.
"OK. I'm going to send you my contact card," she says determinedly, putting on an enthusiastic smile.
Charles receives a text from a phone number not in his contacts, which says "Caroline Pierce, contact card."
"What the hell am I supposed to do?" Normally Charles wouldn't use this language with someone young enough to be his daughter, but he senses Caroline doesn't care. And he's right: she doesn't. She only laughs.
"Click on the contact card, go to more info, and hit create new contact. Everything's all filled out for you. Then hit DONE!"
Charles does so. Now he has 21 contacts, as opposed to 20.
And if it were not for that phone, he would never, ever have had to see Caroline Pierce again.