Upon reading the first part of the story someone commented they like watching their shows on Netflix so they can binge watch them. I am going to take that as a compliment – that my story is binge worthy. What can I say? I take what I can get.
…months go by and I don’t hear from him. I move on – I don’t want to move on – I was perfectly happy where I was. I went through the gamut of emotions – mostly I was sad and eventually I was angry. Angry is ann emotion I am far more comfortable with than sadness.
I was sitting in a cafe having lunch with a girlfriend, telling her what had happened with V and my phone rang. Guess who it is?
Yup – you guessed right.
Some other woman may not have picked up the phone. I am not that woman.
I answered and heard his voice. It was him. Sounded just like him and his tone was as if we had spoken yesterday and were speaking everyday. Not as though he had disappeared for four months.
The cafe was loud and I walked outside onto the streets of New York which are not much better but I think what he told me was that things had gotten crazy. In the din of the traffic, I heard someone died.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Mom is not taking it well,” he replied.
Oh there is still a mom? So who the fuck died?
We began having a parallel conversation. He was telling me something and I was asking him something else. After struggling for a few minutes, trying to hear each other in vain, I said I would be home in a couple of hours and that he must call me then.
I went back inside where my friend was waiting anxiously.
“What does he have to say?” she said as I struggled to slide back into the booth.
I moved the food aside, kept the cup of coffee in front of me and put my face in my hands.
“What? Don’t do that,” she said trying to move my hands away from my face.
I looked up, tears streaming down my face.
“What did he say?”
“I am not sure,” I said.
“What does that mean?”
“That means,” I said wiping the tears with the paper towel from the dispenser. It scratched my face and also disintegrated at the same time into my hands “Cheap shit,” I said. “Why do we even come here?”
“We come here because you love it here,” she said.
“True,” I said laughing.
I looked like a crazy person – tears on my face and laughing with a wad of flimsy tissues in my hands.
“Would you fucking please tell me what he said. What do you mean you are not sure what he said?”
“The connection was bad and I couldn’t hear or understand what he was saying. I thought he said his mom died but then said she was not taking it well; and so I assume a grandmother, an auntie or someone like that died. I told him I was pissed that he disappeared – didn’t ask him why because I couldn’t hear what he was saying anyway. I told him I would be home in a couple of hours and that he had better call me then.”
“Yah,” I said taking a sip of the now cold coffee. “What am I going to do about F?”
“F, yes. What are you gonna do about F?”
“I have no idea. I obviously loved V. Maybe I still love him. I am just fucking F, but… May I have some more coffee,” I said gesturing to the waitress.
“Go home, let him call and see what he has to say.”
“You are right,” I said as the waitress brought me a fresh cup of coffee.
We sat there in silence, my fingers wrapped around the coffee mug and me staring into nothingness.
“Let’s go. You need to get home.”
“You are right. Let’s get the check.”
“I paid the check. Now let’s go.”
“Thanks, you are a good friend.”
We walked out of the cafe. I took the bus home and she walked down the stairs to the subway.
Does he call? What does he say?
Now you get to wait for Part 3
Until I date again!