Pandora had been checking her phone all morning, and the longer I watched her, the more convinced I became that something unusual was happening. Every few minutes it buzzed, she’d glance at the screen, smile to herself, type a quick reply, and immediately lock it again before setting it back down as though nothing had happened. We were supposed to meet John Mercer at the new coffee shop on Fifth Street in less than an hour, yet she hadn’t even finished getting ready. Instead, she wandered around the apartment with that distracted look people get when half their attention is somewhere else entirely. Even Mr. Whiskers seemed to notice. He rubbed against her legs twice before finally giving up and wandering into the living room with the unmistakable expression of a cat who had just been ignored for reasons he neither understood nor appreciated. Watching him abandon the effort somehow made me feel a little sorry for both of us.
I tried convincing myself there was a perfectly sensible explanation. Karen was my coworker, but she’d become good friends with Pandora over the past several months, so it wasn’t strange that they texted each other now and then. Maybe they were talking about work. Maybe they were discussing school. Maybe Karen had found another one of those ridiculous videos where raccoons somehow manage to steal entire bags of dog food without anyone noticing. There were hundreds of ordinary possibilities, yet for reasons I still don’t fully understand, my imagination immediately selected the least reasonable one available. By the time Pandora’s phone buzzed again, I’d already begun wondering why Karen suddenly needed to contact her every ten minutes.
“What are you smiling at?” I asked, trying to sound far more casual than I actually felt. Pandora looked up just long enough to lock her phone before slipping it into her pocket.
“Oh… just Karen.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yep.”
That was it.
One word.
Now, under normal circumstances, “Yep” is a perfectly acceptable answer. People say “Yep” every day without accidentally launching a conspiracy theory. Unfortunately, I’d already crossed the point where my imagination was willing to accept normal explanations. Somewhere deep inside my head, a tiny detective wearing a rumpled trench coat had begun pinning imaginary evidence to an imaginary bulletin board, and Pandora had just handed him his first exhibit.
As she disappeared into the bedroom to grab her jacket, I found myself mentally reviewing everything that had happened since yesterday afternoon. Karen had started texting. Pandora had become unusually attached to her phone. We were meeting John for coffee. None of those things had any obvious connection to one another, but my brain insisted there had to be one hiding somewhere just beneath the surface. I wasn’t even looking for a mystery anymore. I was looking for the mystery behind the mystery, which in hindsight probably should have been my first clue that I’d wandered off the path of rational thought.
Mr. Whiskers padded quietly into the living room and sat down directly in front of me. He blinked once, slowly, then continued staring as though waiting for me to say something intelligent. “What do you think?” I asked him. He blinked again. “I appreciate your honesty.” Pandora walked back into the room just in time to hear that exchange and couldn’t help laughing. “Are you asking the cat for advice again?” she said. “I’m gathering perspectives,” I replied. “You never know.” She smiled, shook her head, and picked up her purse while Mr. Whiskers yawned with complete indifference. Honestly, his contribution to the conversation wasn’t much different from mine.
The drive to the coffee shop did absolutely nothing to calm me down. Pandora’s phone buzzed twice more before we arrived, and each time she smiled, typed a quick response, and tucked it away without offering the slightest hint about what was so interesting. By now I’d managed to convince myself that everyone seemed unusually cheerful. Pandora looked amused. John was already waiting outside with a coffee in his hand when we pulled into the parking lot, and he greeted us with an enormous grin that somehow felt suspicious simply because I couldn’t think of a reason for it. “There you are,” he said. “We’ve been waiting.” We’ve? I thought. Who exactly was we?
The answer appeared the moment we walked through the front door.
Karen stood up from a table near the back of the café, smiling so broadly she was practically vibrating with excitement. “Did he figure it out?” she asked before we even reached the table. Pandora burst into laughter and shook her head. “Not even close.” For one glorious, terrifying moment, I was convinced every theory I’d invented during the past twenty-four hours had somehow been correct. Then Karen stepped aside, revealing a small chocolate cake sitting in the middle of the table.
Across the top, written in bright blue frosting, were four simple words.
Congratulations on Your Promotion, Hal!
Everything fell into place so quickly I actually laughed at myself. The constant texting. Pandora’s distracted smiles. John’s insistence that we all meet for coffee. Karen asking whether we’d left the apartment yet. None of it had been secret meetings or hidden agendas. They’d been trying to organize a surprise without accidentally telling the one person they were trying to surprise. Pandora smiled as she slipped her phone back into her purse. “We’ve been trying to keep this secret for two days,” she admitted. Karen folded her arms with a grin. “You are remarkably difficult to surprise.” John took a sip of his coffee and added, “Mostly because you assume everyone is plotting something.”
“I spent this entire morning convinced there was some enormous conspiracy,” I admitted.
“There was,” Karen replied. “Just not the one you invented.”
Everyone laughed, including me. Looking back, I probably should have realized that the only creature behaving normally all morning had been Mr. Whiskers. While I’d been trying to uncover an elaborate web of secret messages, hidden motives, and mysterious text conversations, he’d been focused entirely on the important things in life, like breakfast and finding a sunny place to nap. In retrospect, he may have been the wisest one in the apartment.
As I cut the first slice of cake, I leaned back in my chair and smiled. “Next time you’re all planning a surprise,” I said, “do me a favor.”
Pandora looked up. “What’s that?”
“Tell the cat.”
I took another bite of cake and watched everyone laugh again.
Honestly…I’m starting to think he’s the only one around here who actually knows how to keep a secret.