greedo
01-28-2010, 10:38 PM
I was leaning up against the payphone and spilling things from my pocket like a desperate fool. There were matches and a pen cap, a stack of lint big enough to choke myself with, and some quarters that fell onto the worn linoleum counter by the phone. I pushed them into the slot and dialed her number. I heard her hair up against the receiver before she said hello. She sounded tired. I blurted out,
“I thought you wouldn’t pick up, I’m so happy you did,”
“I didn’t know the number,” she said, “so I wouldn’t have. What if it was the hitman? And you sound drunk,” she said. I was slurring. It was two.
“You miss me,” I said.
“I miss seeing you, yes,” she said, “it was fun together - it was forever ago.”
“Two years ago. Ten percent of our lives is all,” I said. I checked the math later and it was spot on. She had been dating some guy and I felt fine about it until I saw pictures of them together. I realized I was starters for some grand dinner I didn’t know was coming. He looked like a goddamn movie star. He had beach hair that never looks messed up and a jaw sharp like a meat cleaver and a nose like from a Roman bust. They were together a while. I told myself it was just a thing to pass the time. I remember thinking she would come around. He had some anxiety fit and left one night a few months back, apparently.
“Can I do something for you?” she said in this waitress voice. “Are you drunk?”
“I’ve had some. Not too much. I was thinking of you.”
“It’s very late you know.”
“But I’m so glad I caught you. I know it’s late, did I wake you?”
“You did. I was right in the middle of a dream. I was dreaming I was sitting out at a pool on a veranda with mums and tulips everywhere. It was just me, though. It was terribly lonely. I had on my bathing suit and a big hat and the sun was terribly harsh and I was sweating and that little birthmark on my hip was getting darker every second. It was out of control.”
I took a crumpled picture of her from my pocket and unfolded it. I took it with me when I felt lonely. I propped it up by the phone. Usually I toted it around and could just pull it out when I needed something to make me heartsick. The crease lines were thin and spreading and I knew the picture would tear soon. She had told me to get rid of everything with her in it when we split. I told her to do the same for me. I told her I threw everything out.
“You remember everything about it,” I said.
“I wish I was still there. It was beautiful. What did you call for? Is there something?”
“I was just thinking about how we should get together. We should talk.”
“We are talking,” she said.
“I mean, talk.”
“I don’t know. I was looking through some things the other day. I found a letter you wrote me.”
“I thought you threw everything out.”
“I just told you I did. It was something about me always looking for something new and how I was never content and how you wanted me to remember what I had. It had little ripples from where I cried on it. I don’t know why I kept it. It made me sad to look at it, so sad.”
I heard her hair against the receiver again. She didn’t say anything for a second and I was leaning forward with my weight on the tips of my toes against the booth like she was about to pour everything out and I was breathing in like I could smell her perfume around the corner. My hand was sweating and sliding up and down the glass partition around the phone.
“I don’t know if Eric would like that,” she said. “We’re back, you know.”
“Of course, I know. I don’t mean some fancy dinner with tablecloths and all that.”
“Still. He’s very peculiar about you.”
“That’s unfair.”
“You are my ex, you know. I think it’s fair.”
“I think you shouldn't listen to every goddamn thing he says – every time we talk he has some new theory about me,” I said, "and it seems you love all of them.”
“Every time we talk? I can’t remember the last time we did.”
“Last time you said he called me a – what was it? – a liar with delusions as big as my ego. That was it. That’s a goddamned theory. He needs to watch his mouth.”
“I wish you wouldn’t yell, really.”
“I wish a lot of things,” I said.
I dive into lies and try to dog paddle my way to the edge of the water and always end up drowning. I had the place all picked out; I was standing inside of it. It has tablecloths and all that. It’s a few blocks from her apartment and we used to go there to celebrate when something good happened. We only went a few times. She hung up and I slammed the phone onto the hook a few times before a waitress came around the corner and asked me to stop. I said everything was wonderful even though she hadn’t asked, then shoved the picture back in my pocket for later and went back and sat down at the table. My date was looking up at me over a smoldering ashtray with her arms crossed and her lips pursed and she asked me if everything was okay. Everything’s great, I said. Then she smiled and said she was happy I was back and reached over the table and put her hands on mine. I asked for the bill and paid and she said she was so happy to have me. I said me too. I took her home and drove back to my place and put the picture up by my bed and fell asleep looking at it.
“I thought you wouldn’t pick up, I’m so happy you did,”
“I didn’t know the number,” she said, “so I wouldn’t have. What if it was the hitman? And you sound drunk,” she said. I was slurring. It was two.
“You miss me,” I said.
“I miss seeing you, yes,” she said, “it was fun together - it was forever ago.”
“Two years ago. Ten percent of our lives is all,” I said. I checked the math later and it was spot on. She had been dating some guy and I felt fine about it until I saw pictures of them together. I realized I was starters for some grand dinner I didn’t know was coming. He looked like a goddamn movie star. He had beach hair that never looks messed up and a jaw sharp like a meat cleaver and a nose like from a Roman bust. They were together a while. I told myself it was just a thing to pass the time. I remember thinking she would come around. He had some anxiety fit and left one night a few months back, apparently.
“Can I do something for you?” she said in this waitress voice. “Are you drunk?”
“I’ve had some. Not too much. I was thinking of you.”
“It’s very late you know.”
“But I’m so glad I caught you. I know it’s late, did I wake you?”
“You did. I was right in the middle of a dream. I was dreaming I was sitting out at a pool on a veranda with mums and tulips everywhere. It was just me, though. It was terribly lonely. I had on my bathing suit and a big hat and the sun was terribly harsh and I was sweating and that little birthmark on my hip was getting darker every second. It was out of control.”
I took a crumpled picture of her from my pocket and unfolded it. I took it with me when I felt lonely. I propped it up by the phone. Usually I toted it around and could just pull it out when I needed something to make me heartsick. The crease lines were thin and spreading and I knew the picture would tear soon. She had told me to get rid of everything with her in it when we split. I told her to do the same for me. I told her I threw everything out.
“You remember everything about it,” I said.
“I wish I was still there. It was beautiful. What did you call for? Is there something?”
“I was just thinking about how we should get together. We should talk.”
“We are talking,” she said.
“I mean, talk.”
“I don’t know. I was looking through some things the other day. I found a letter you wrote me.”
“I thought you threw everything out.”
“I just told you I did. It was something about me always looking for something new and how I was never content and how you wanted me to remember what I had. It had little ripples from where I cried on it. I don’t know why I kept it. It made me sad to look at it, so sad.”
I heard her hair against the receiver again. She didn’t say anything for a second and I was leaning forward with my weight on the tips of my toes against the booth like she was about to pour everything out and I was breathing in like I could smell her perfume around the corner. My hand was sweating and sliding up and down the glass partition around the phone.
“I don’t know if Eric would like that,” she said. “We’re back, you know.”
“Of course, I know. I don’t mean some fancy dinner with tablecloths and all that.”
“Still. He’s very peculiar about you.”
“That’s unfair.”
“You are my ex, you know. I think it’s fair.”
“I think you shouldn't listen to every goddamn thing he says – every time we talk he has some new theory about me,” I said, "and it seems you love all of them.”
“Every time we talk? I can’t remember the last time we did.”
“Last time you said he called me a – what was it? – a liar with delusions as big as my ego. That was it. That’s a goddamned theory. He needs to watch his mouth.”
“I wish you wouldn’t yell, really.”
“I wish a lot of things,” I said.
I dive into lies and try to dog paddle my way to the edge of the water and always end up drowning. I had the place all picked out; I was standing inside of it. It has tablecloths and all that. It’s a few blocks from her apartment and we used to go there to celebrate when something good happened. We only went a few times. She hung up and I slammed the phone onto the hook a few times before a waitress came around the corner and asked me to stop. I said everything was wonderful even though she hadn’t asked, then shoved the picture back in my pocket for later and went back and sat down at the table. My date was looking up at me over a smoldering ashtray with her arms crossed and her lips pursed and she asked me if everything was okay. Everything’s great, I said. Then she smiled and said she was happy I was back and reached over the table and put her hands on mine. I asked for the bill and paid and she said she was so happy to have me. I said me too. I took her home and drove back to my place and put the picture up by my bed and fell asleep looking at it.