Post by redjasper on Apr 20, 2007 1:21:16 GMT -5
This is a story I started to work on almost 4 years ago. Made a few changes a year ago and it hasn't really gone anywhere. I'll give it try again by posting here. Maybe I'll get some helpful feedback.
This part is kind of in the middle of the story arc.
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Three rings… four rings… Machine should pick up any sec …
“ Hello?”
“ Oh. Hi, Tim, it’s Allison.” I lunged for the volume on my CD player. I suddenly realized that I was playing my brand new Miles Davis CD - the one he had just recommended to me last Sunday night. This glaring evidence of my obsession with him eluded me just long enough to let one too many trumpet notes out for the world (Tim) to hear.
“ Yeah.” Throat clearing. “Hi.”
“ I was so ready to leave you a weird message.” Dead silence. I buffered it with my usual polite, mother-trained-me-right question. “ Ummm. Is this a good time or a bad time? ”
“ Not sure.” More silence. Dead again. This phone call could easily be going in the bad-time pile real soon.
“ So-o-o-o, what are you up to? Have you eaten?”
“ Ahhhhhh. No. I’m cooking.”
“ Oh. Sorry. Anyway, I won’t keep you. I wanted to let you know that I’m doing a Toronto trek again this weekend and … “
“Really. Why.”
One-word sentences again. The why didn’t even come out as a question this time. Very scary, girl. Time to jump under the blankets and hide. Still, I felt the need to warm his cool heart with some of my patented friendly banter.
“Well, not that you’ll be terribly enthralled, but I’m actually getting paid this time. I took your excellent advice and asked John – no, I told him that the next work weekend would be done on one condition - payment. Lo and behold, he’s coughing up a few bucks. Like you said, Tim, it doesn’t make sense for me to sacrifice myself, so I finally put my foot down.” Catch your breath, girl. You’ll pass out.
The sound of glass (a wine glass?) clinking in the background. More of that vintage silence.
“Tim, you still there?”
“ Where else would I be?” Smart-ass. Cute as hell smart-ass.
“ Oh. Nowhere. Heh-heh. Nowhere else.” God, what a stupid, nervous laugh – how did I let that escape? “It just sounds like you’re … umm… preoccupied. I should have asked if it was a bad time to call.” But I had asked.
Without warning, the flash flood memory of our entanglement on his couch just days ago swept me away. Any remnants of clinking glass sounds were dissolved. Stay the course, Al. That guy on the couch with you last week – he’ll be showing up any minute. Fashionably late, but he’ll be there.
“ Hmmmmmmm.” A warm and sexy sound followed by a warmer and sexier pause. Okayyyy - that’s better. “Allison, you’ll never learn.” Said with a smile. The next pause was mine because I didn’t know which way to turn. Then I heard it – the murmur of a voice in the background and more volume coming through the phone from his stereo. What? Sarah McLachlan? He hates Sarah McLachlan.
Sensing it was time to backtrack, I said softly “I’ll let you go then.”
“Sure. Thanks for calling.”
Last chance. Here we go. ” So… what about this Sunday night? Can we meet for dinner again? I really hope so... I had such an amazing time last Sunday…”
Was “McLachlan Girl” planning on having an amazing time tonight, I wondered? I found myself wanting his body in a voluminous way. Worse, I was aching to peer into that intoxicating brain of his – it’s all I could think about. I chose not to count the seconds in his pause this time. Better to count the seconds that went by as I listen to the sultry riffs of “Building A Mystery”. A new sound - he cleared his throat and I was stirred out of my “Sarah” trance.
“Sorry, Allison. I’ll be out of town. Some other time, okay? Call me again soon, though. I want to hear more about what you’re up to. I’m worried about you.” There he was. Fashionably late. Fully-formed sentences. Magic words. The only proof I needed were his magic words.
This part is kind of in the middle of the story arc.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Three rings… four rings… Machine should pick up any sec …
“ Hello?”
“ Oh. Hi, Tim, it’s Allison.” I lunged for the volume on my CD player. I suddenly realized that I was playing my brand new Miles Davis CD - the one he had just recommended to me last Sunday night. This glaring evidence of my obsession with him eluded me just long enough to let one too many trumpet notes out for the world (Tim) to hear.
“ Yeah.” Throat clearing. “Hi.”
“ I was so ready to leave you a weird message.” Dead silence. I buffered it with my usual polite, mother-trained-me-right question. “ Ummm. Is this a good time or a bad time? ”
“ Not sure.” More silence. Dead again. This phone call could easily be going in the bad-time pile real soon.
“ So-o-o-o, what are you up to? Have you eaten?”
“ Ahhhhhh. No. I’m cooking.”
“ Oh. Sorry. Anyway, I won’t keep you. I wanted to let you know that I’m doing a Toronto trek again this weekend and … “
“Really. Why.”
One-word sentences again. The why didn’t even come out as a question this time. Very scary, girl. Time to jump under the blankets and hide. Still, I felt the need to warm his cool heart with some of my patented friendly banter.
“Well, not that you’ll be terribly enthralled, but I’m actually getting paid this time. I took your excellent advice and asked John – no, I told him that the next work weekend would be done on one condition - payment. Lo and behold, he’s coughing up a few bucks. Like you said, Tim, it doesn’t make sense for me to sacrifice myself, so I finally put my foot down.” Catch your breath, girl. You’ll pass out.
The sound of glass (a wine glass?) clinking in the background. More of that vintage silence.
“Tim, you still there?”
“ Where else would I be?” Smart-ass. Cute as hell smart-ass.
“ Oh. Nowhere. Heh-heh. Nowhere else.” God, what a stupid, nervous laugh – how did I let that escape? “It just sounds like you’re … umm… preoccupied. I should have asked if it was a bad time to call.” But I had asked.
Without warning, the flash flood memory of our entanglement on his couch just days ago swept me away. Any remnants of clinking glass sounds were dissolved. Stay the course, Al. That guy on the couch with you last week – he’ll be showing up any minute. Fashionably late, but he’ll be there.
“ Hmmmmmmm.” A warm and sexy sound followed by a warmer and sexier pause. Okayyyy - that’s better. “Allison, you’ll never learn.” Said with a smile. The next pause was mine because I didn’t know which way to turn. Then I heard it – the murmur of a voice in the background and more volume coming through the phone from his stereo. What? Sarah McLachlan? He hates Sarah McLachlan.
Sensing it was time to backtrack, I said softly “I’ll let you go then.”
“Sure. Thanks for calling.”
Last chance. Here we go. ” So… what about this Sunday night? Can we meet for dinner again? I really hope so... I had such an amazing time last Sunday…”
Was “McLachlan Girl” planning on having an amazing time tonight, I wondered? I found myself wanting his body in a voluminous way. Worse, I was aching to peer into that intoxicating brain of his – it’s all I could think about. I chose not to count the seconds in his pause this time. Better to count the seconds that went by as I listen to the sultry riffs of “Building A Mystery”. A new sound - he cleared his throat and I was stirred out of my “Sarah” trance.
“Sorry, Allison. I’ll be out of town. Some other time, okay? Call me again soon, though. I want to hear more about what you’re up to. I’m worried about you.” There he was. Fashionably late. Fully-formed sentences. Magic words. The only proof I needed were his magic words.
