Anyway, Too
“Celeste! What the fuck! I never thought you’d actually call.”
“Well, hello to you, too, Aubrey. And yes. I called. I am that brave.”
“Yeah. One ballsy woman.”
“I always wanted to be called ‘ballsy.'”
“This your first time?”
“Yup. That’s what I get for hanging out in polite society.”
“Ha! Not a fucking worry for you no more! Not if you’re hanging out with me. Oh, shit. Look, Celeste. I am so glad you called, but Nora’s outside the door, waving her arms like a crazy woman to tell me I’m late for my next meeting. Hell. I’m always late. But I can’t string along these rich donors. I really gotta take this. Call back? Better yet, I’ll call you, doll.”
“Aubrey?”
“What. Did you think I wouldn’t call back? Gimme some credit, at least!”
“Well. Thank you. I thought, you know, wait a few days. No call. I’d have to work up my nerves to call you back, then we’d both pretend that we hadn’t skipped turns–that old story.”
“It’s a little early for that turn-skipping shit, don’t you figure? Gotta know each other for at least two months before we start taking, you know, liberties with each other!”
“Yes. So. Anyway. How was your day?”
“Oh. Okay. We’re doing that. Well, my day was just peachy. I got a call out of the blue from this hot older woman I think I might just be sorta into, and then I had the best damn meeting of my life, and then now, here I am. On the phone again. How was your day?”
“It was good. Uneventful. Reading. A walk with Wittgy–that’s my dog. He’s an Australian shepherd. I think he’s gay. Then–you know, Aubrey–I stopped under a cherry tree. In bloom. And–it was like one of those movies. Slow-motion. The petals falling. And. Do you ever see the space between things? The space between petals, for instance? That’s when I decided to call you. So, actually, not uneventful at all. Lovely. I had a lovely day.”
“That sounds–did you say you saw the spaces between the petals? I thought I was the only one who did that.”
“The spaces between the petals, Aubrey.”
“Damn.”
“Anyway, it was beautiful.”
“Celeste! You fucking called! I was just thinking about you! I swear!”
“That’s a coincidence. I was just thinking about you, Aubrey.”
“This is like, what–our third phone conversation? I don’t even know what you do. What do you fucking do, Celeste, besides walk through the petals falling in slo-mo? No–wait! Let me guess! Something with the university. Librarian? Molecular biologist?”
“You’re so close, Aubrey. I’m a philosophy professor.”
“Right on! And that would mean… Wittgy is short for Wittgenstein?”
“Oh! You are good!”
“Except when I’m bad. And then, I’m better! Want to know what I do, career-wise, that is?”
“I already do. You think I’d just call up any intelligent woman I met in any old café? I did my research! I know all about your being the new director of Wing City! In fact, I read a profile of you in City Buzz shortly after your appointment.”
“Now who’s good!”
“Anyway. I haven’t been calling just to call.”
“You’ve been calling to phone-flirt!”
“No! I mean. I haven’t been calling just to ‘phone-flirt.’ I… I was wondering… I’ve been trying to work up my nerve…” 3. 2. 1. Breathe. Breathe. “Aubrey. Would you like to have dinner with me?”
Prompt for May 16: “Write a story completely in dialogue,” from StoryADay.org.
Cathy Tea's SimLit Anthology 