02.23.2004
I almost called the Chinese place and complained that my food was cold when I realized that I'd gotten so caught up in what I'd been doing that my broccoli-chicken and pork dumplings had cooled over the last few hours. It hadn't seemed so long, but a quick glance at the clock told me that it had been near three hours since it was delivered by the middle-aged man in the same ratty baseball cap that always knocked on my door.
I looked down at the poem I'd been crafting all the while and though it was a derivative of Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue, it took a swift turn to the more personal in the second stanza. I was trying to describe a girl's personality and more specific traits through odd allusions to Star Trek and explain how much I enjoyed waking up next to her while not actually saying just that.
It was the fourth such poem in a series and while I think she may have liked the first one and suffered the second, the ones after weren't met with as high a regard. I couldn't say I didn't understand, after all, it was sophomoric tripe that might impress a girl in middle school but certainly not a full-grown woman.
I decided to break with one of my general taboos, and drew myself a bath with the firm intention of eating my food while soaking in the warm water since it was ten degrees outside and the cold seemed inescapable anywhere but there and under my flannel sheets and since I wasn't yet ready to go to bed, I took the only option left to me. The water warmed quickly and I pulled the lever to start flooding the tub. While I watched the water rise, I forked a piece of broccoli into my mouth and chewed the luke warm vegetable with something less than satisfaction.
Finally the tub had filled and I undressed and stepped in. The water almost rolled over the side, but I slowed my movements to that of a spaceman and eventually the waves slowed to small ripples as I lowered myself in. Just as I had finished the slow lean against the back of the cold metal tub, my phone rang and I reached over the side to answer it.
"Hello," I asked, not so much a question as a demand.
"Hey Mitch," said the voice on the other end of the phone. "How's things?"
"Good," I said. I knew it was a girl, and that she sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite put the voice together with anyone in particular. "How're you?"
"I'm good," she said with a sigh. "I mean, I've been better. But I'm good."
"Oh," I said, somewhat intrigued. "That's a stinker. What's been going on?"
"You know," she said again with a sigh. "A little bit of this, a little bit of that."
"Yeah, yeah," I said. "Where are you calling me from," I asked hoping it might give some clue as to who I was talking to.
"Home," she said, dashing my hopes. "Why, where do you think I'm calling from?"
"I don't know," I said with complete honesty. "I thought I heard something," lying through my teeth. "You know, like you're calling me from a cell or something."
"No. No," she said sighing again and I wondered if I knew anyone prone to excessive sighing. None came to mind so I continued to play along. "My phone was cancelled. They said I didn't pay even though I did."
"Oh. How much did they say you owed?"
"I think they just came up with whatever Mickey Mouse number came to mind. Something like six months of back payments."
"Well," I said. "That'll do it. I guess that explains why you haven't been answering it," I said in my last attempt to figure out who was on the other end of the call before I flat out asked. It sounded like she was smoking on the other end with her deep inhales and exhales and I regretted that I left my cigarettes in the other room. I could picture where they were, sitting on my futon, next to my blue tin ashtray with my Zippo lying on top, just waiting to be used. The picture haunted me and I seriously considered for a moment getting out of the water to get them. But then my comfort got the better of me and I decided to smoke a dozen of them after I got out of the water. Still, I tried to think of girls I knew that smoked and none came to mind. All the girls I knew who used to smoke quit right around the same time they all were hit with the desire to marry. I didn't understand it and I sure as hell didn't support it, but that was the way of things.
"You tried to call me," she asked.
"Yeah, a couple of times," I said, digging myself into a pit I knew I didn't have enough rope to get out of.
"When?"
"I don't know, maybe last week, maybe a month ago. You know how fast time goes by. I really don't know."
"Oh," she said. "That's funny. I didn't even think you had that number."
I realized then that I was in too deep to actually ask who she was. By claiming to have called her, I had committed to knowing her even if I didn't. I was just going to have to play along.
"I don't know what number I have," I said. "But I don't know why I wouldn't have that one."
"Well, because we haven't talked in years." I held my breath. Who hadn't I talked to in years? There had to be somebody, I was so terrible at keeping up with people once I moved away or sometimes just let communication dwindle to a trickle then dry up all together. But none came to mind. No one who would have my current number if I wasn't still in regular contact with them. I heard a deep drag on her smoke through the phone that sounded like the final one on that butt and could almost see her hand – if even I couldn't see her face – stubbing it out and waving away the leftover smoke. "Anyway, " she said. "I should probably go."
"Okay," I said, unsure of anything else. "But call me again. You know, so we can talk longer."
"Will do. Nice talking to you Mitch."
"You too." And with that, the phone went dead. With my big toe, I turned on the faucet and refilled the tub to its previous level with hot water. I forked some more food into my mouth and chewed slowly as I tried to place the voice I'd just spoken with, but still, no one came to mind. It was frustrating because the named seemed to be right in front of me, almost spelled out in the soap scum that coated the tiles around me. Had we been intimate? I felt as though we may have been. Had we been buddies? I couldn't think of any times I bummed around and played pool with a voice like that, two things that were definite occurrences with any friends of mine.
I put the take-out container on top of the pile of laundry next to the tub, leaned back and closed my eyes to enjoy the heat. The small, inescapable draft that circulated through my apartment made me sink lower into the water to avoid any chill and eventually she left my mind. Eventually, I stopped thinking about anything and found a very peaceful place that I decided I wanted to spend some time. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep and dreamed of a pretty girl who smoked my cigarettes and had a very warm smile. But even in my dream I couldn't think of her name.