It's a quarter after one.
You all know the song.
It's funny isn't it? How you can have a lot of things going your way one minute and the next-
this.
You're stuck at home watching romantic comedies on your computer, going to bed every night drunk on regret, among other things.
....
It was a nice house. Anyone who saw it would tell you that. It had a lawn, and a pool, a cozy porch. A lot of the house bespoke a woman's touch.
"Bespoke", nice word. It's a verb actually. Only problem is- it's in the past tense.
Hey, it's me; again.
I was um... thinking...about you, and thought i'd give you a call, just to-just to sorta check up on you.
It's amazing the kind of lies people can come up with, and sometimes rather desperately hope for everyone else to believe.
Like she wouldn't know the truth.
I thought someone told me that they wouldn't call
Her tone was icy. He hadn't expected much else.
Yeah well...I just was feeling a bit...
Pause.
Ok.
Pause.
Oh well, he'd called now.
So,er, how are you doing, beautiful?
A memory;
The sound of laughter.
Do you think I'm beautiful.
Of course da.
You're lying.
The sound of a person unsure-wanting to be reassured.
I'm not.
Ok.
I'm doing alright. How you doing?
Alright, I guess.
So...
So.
Listen, I've been meaning to tell you some..something.
Pause.
Babe, have you been drinking?
She could almost hear the guilty shifting the other end.
Well..
Babe?
Ok, a little bit.
A little bit?
Yeah, just a little bit.
Promise?
Promise.
Hmmm.
Look, I had a real rough day alright? Cut me some slack.
He could almost hear her pursing her lips.
Alright.What happened?
Mumbling.
What happened?
Just sorta...some...stuff. People...annoying me.
Some...stuff?
Yeah, stuff.
Another memory:
You're an uncommunicative, crazy man.
Yeah, I guess.
Don't you grin at me. You're not getting off that easy this time. How am I supposed to help you if you won't tell me what happened?
Umm..You could tell me you love me, give me a hug and buy me some chocolate.
Very funny.
No, seriously- chocolate-
Ahem.
Yes dear.
Don't you "Yes dear",me.
Yes dear.
Sigh.
Annoying, he was; and also slightly adorable-slightly.
That's bad. What can I do to help?
Through the mumbling the words, "Come home" were audible.
What?
Nothing.
Ok.
So..yeah. 'k, I'll call-I'll call later then?
There was a slight breaking of the voice.
Ok.
Bye.
Bye.
Of course, he never told her what he'd really called for. He didn't tell her that he was sorry for what he'd done. That he had thought that pushing her away was the only way things would ever work out. That he'd been a bloody idiot. That he'd messed up.
No.
How do you explain to a woman that her affection had been considered a needless luxury? That her heart had been the first casualty in an inhumano process of de-humanization? That all the brilliance in the world hadn't stopped a man being an utter fool?
And now?
And now, when he had jumped freely into the pit of his ambition, he found that he had no wings to carry him; no hands to catch him as he fell; and no joy to make the work worth living
You won't know what you've got till it's gone, they say.
They were right, of course; whoever "they" were. 'xept it wasn't much help now.
Nothing was, really.
He'd like to put down every cliche that he'd ever seen or read. That if he had a chance to turn back time and do one thing right in his life-it would be the decision to call it quits. That she should take him back, even though he didn't deserve it.
That things would be different, this time around.
Of course, he never told her all this. He kept the phone, and slumped back into a stupor.
.....
The beautiful part of it all,
is that she called back.
.....
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18 comments:
I hate alcohol.
I've an interesting experience there.
If we ever meet privately, i shall tell you.
I now am on an abstinence-for-life.
The question is itching to get out.. do you even know who I am?
Who you are?
I.S
Darn.
I could pretend, if it would make you happy.
Nah, what do you know about I.S anyway. I'm still a mystery, ha!
True. I know as much of you as is publicly available.
But then, so do you of me.
I think I might get in trouble with the owner of this blog for turning the 'comment' spaces into conversations. I enjoy them, but I think some people call this spam.
Precisely what I was thinking. There are better fora for conversations.
Granted, the fact that you constitute a majority of my readership, gives you some perks.
Haha, so what exactly are the privileges my Prandemonium Premier Card entitles me to?
It's an ' ask and you shall receive' sorta arrangement.
That sucks. I thought I would be spontaneously offered a Skype ID or phone number or something. I'm changing banks.
There's already a phone number in one of my posts. You should give it a shot.
A Skype ID doesn't take a genius to figure out.
No thank you. There's being invited to call on the one hand, and obsessedly 'obtaining' a phone number (/Skype ID) on the other.
...
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