navwin » Main Forums » Passions in Prose » Foremans and Phone calls
Passions in Prose
Post A Reply Post New Topic Foremans and Phone calls Go to Previous / Newer Topic Back to Topic List Go to Next / Older Topic
Kevin
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Senior Member
since 1999-11-02
Posts 729
Torrington, Ct, Usa

0 posted 2002-10-21 05:21 AM


     The last of friends and roommates single filed into bed, each making sure to take their share of the remaining apartment lighting from George, myself and marketing genius manifested in a double hot plate.  “Just you and me again, George,” I mumbled under the hissing of 3 a.m. munchies, and in the poorest interest of time, struggled to transfer every condiment contained in the refrigerator, to a counter already sacrificing real estate to dinner dishes.  

     (Its common to talk to grills when you get sick of talking to yourself; at least according to George and I.)

     Resisting the urge to continue bodywork on a sandwich of growing complexity, I scheduled clean up for any time but then and retreated to HQ, otherwise known as the couch.  (The couch and I go way back, ‘used to hang out together after track practice in high school.  Needless to say, we were tight.)

     Anyway, there we were; the couch swallowing me, me swallowing George’s best efforts, and the T.V. staring back at the both of us, practicing its best, “what the hell are you looking at” face.  The moment would have certainly distracted me sufficiently from the day’s earlier bomb dropping, had the phone not joined the fray, shrieking, “its 3:30, it has to be her!”  

     I fumbled the phone from the receiver, immediately dismissing last thoughts of “It still might not be…”

     Tears. It’s strange to be on the other end of them, isn’t it?  When they dial you in the middle of the night, (morning, whatever) to, “just talk.”

     It didn’t help that her voice on the phone instantly gelatinized me in the first place, but to hear her cry, that ripped through me on impact.  To this day I pray that I was consoling her, but I don’t rule out that I submitted, if only for a few seconds, or even minutes, to silence.

     (Have you ever been in a moment that demands attention to the present, but all you can think about is the past, and future, or in some cases lack there of?  I hope not for your sake.)  

                          ***
“January, 7th 2000.”  How long is that anyway, two? No three, Jesus.  You should have seen how bright her smile was that day, even the afternoon sun and snow glaze were jealous.  I was greedy, but the best kind, when I kissed her.  The best kind.

                          ***

“Kevin?” Her sniffle injected the present back into my arm.  I formed a fist and immediately began pumping out the numbness, finding the breath to stammer out, “I’m here.”
     It may have been anger for her afternoon words, or hope of what the morning’s were to bring, but my heart raced to keep up with my thoughts, and my mind seized the opportunity to slip out the earpiece and down the cord to my twiddling fingers, once more.  

                          ***
     “How is it that a cover hog can still have cold feet?”  My morning questions were always just childish enough to accompany a tickle, and I don’t have to tell you what hearing her laugh feels like.  Everyone knows that feeling.
                          
                          ***

“Are you okay?”  

     I still didn’t know the calls intentions, nor did I know why I paused to the inquiry that every inch of my body knew the answer to.  

“Of course not.”  

     Then again, she did pause to an answer that every inch of her knew I was going to say.  She trumped me for the silence, as initial sounds of the word “why?” were dubbed over by a timid stutter, “ I think…I think I made a mistake.”

     The puddle of relief I melted into seeped into the furniture, while I whispered the words “come over” through the phone, than returned it to its place in an overly precise manner, using the time to contemplate the last 60 seconds.  
I struggled up from cushion and fabric and unlocked the door in preparation, then dove back into the couch crevice.  “Sorry,” I said with the straightest face possible to preserve George’s feelings, “I’ll have to take a rain check.”



I'm on my feet, I'm on the floor, I'm good to go
All I need is just to hear a song I know

[This message has been edited by Kevin (10-21-2002 05:24 AM).]

© Copyright 2002 Kevin Bednarz - All Rights Reserved
LCBS
Senior Member
since 2001-11-29
Posts 532
Connecticut
1 posted 2002-10-27 06:32 PM


kev I loved this, I was drawn right into it and captivated by the descriptive writing...so now all I can say, is who is the lucky girl that caught someone as great as you?



~Lis

Red
Member
since 2000-01-01
Posts 143
Ca
2 posted 2002-10-29 12:58 PM


This is great!!!  I laughed in the beginning, then felt bad for laughing, then was touched by the sheer feeling in the words...  I definately felt the roller coaster of the moment.lol  Wonderful story, I enjoyed it.
Post A Reply Post New Topic ⇧ top of page ⇧ Go to Previous / Newer Topic Back to Topic List Go to Next / Older Topic
All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format.
navwin » Main Forums » Passions in Prose » Foremans and Phone calls

Passions in Poetry | pipTalk Home Page | Main Poetry Forums | 100 Best Poems

How to Join | Member's Area / Help | Private Library | Search | Contact Us | Login
Discussion | Tech Talk | Archives | Sanctuary