Thursday, October 11, 2012

Stranger than Fiction

About every 7 years she’d call demanding my shoulder. She was right on schedule.

“It’s about time I caught you! Haven’t you gotten my messages? I must have left ten of them!”

“I’m sorry hon, I did hear a few but I’ve been busy. I don’t have time for this right now.”

“Once in a blue moon I really, really need you and you don’t have time for me? Well that’s pretty crappy. I’m really struggling here! What the hell could be so important that you can’t meet me for a few hours?”

“My father; you know, my best friend? Well he got sick last Friday, by Tuesday he was in a coma and Thursday he died. I’m trying to write his eulogy right now.”

“Geez I’m sorry, that’s a shame. But, can’t you put it off until tonight? I mean, I’m still alive and I need you!”

I had no witty retort, no guilty explanation; in fact I just stared at the phone for what seemed like 40 days and nights.

“Well? Are you gonna meet me or not? Why the silence?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to remember exactly why I divorced you decades ago.”

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