The Maya

“I told Julia about how you named your vibrator after me,” Maya said.

“Excuse me?”

Before she could respond to me, Maya’s phone started speaking to us from the table. Siri, that sneaky bitch, had been recording our conversation. “I don’t understand that,” Siri said.

I read the transcript of our conversation, which had been typed on Maya’s screen, “Told Julia um how you named  your      vibrator after  me.” The words still didn’t make any  sense.

“I don’t understand either,” I said finally.

“Remember!” Maya said. “You sent me that text about how you named a vibrator setting after me. ‘The Maya.’ And I thought it was so weird I didn’t know what to say. Look.”

She held up a screenshot I had sent her, with a list of “Standard” vibrations, “Quick” “Heartbeat” “Rapid” “S.O.S.” and a Custom vibration, “The Maya.”

“Those are vibrations for my cell phone,” I explained. “I still don’t know why I named one after you, I have no recollection of doing it. Maybe you were there?” I said, my voice getting more frantic. “Or you were the one who taught me you could design your own ring tone and vibrations? Or you happened to have texted me at the time I was customizing it? It was my cell phone,” I repeated “not a vibrator.”

“But you’d understand why I’d come to that conclusion,”Maya said.

“Yes,” I said, “but that’s so much worse.”

“I kind of wish it was your vibrator,” Maya said, sighing “that’s such a better story.”

 

 

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