Sapphic Voices General Fiction

Long Distance, After Dark

(I see you’ve been drinking again.)

I stole a guilty glance over at the beer next to my hand. Um, what makes you say that?

(Because this is the fourth time in an hour you’ve tried to contact me.)

I tried to focus but sudsy waves kept rolling over my brain, scattering thoughts in the foam. It’s after midnight, I replied, so I knew you’d be home.

(Still not taking anything for the OCD, are we?)

I’m not obsessive. It’s called love!

(It’s called stalking, dear. It’s against the law in most states.)

So go call a cop.

(Hmmm, I see the booze isn’t really helping with the whole humor thing, either.)

I took a long spiteful pull off the bottle. Well, you know me, Little Miss Drama. I wouldn’t feel spiritually fulfilled if I wasn’t waking someone up.

(See, there you go again.)

I leaned forward in my seat. Look, I, I miss you.

(I would never have guessed.)

Don’t be mean.

(Then don’t be obtuse.)

Jenna said I shouldn’t be doing this. She says I should stop hanging around here, get out more. I tell her I do, all the time!

(Well, I can’t be a hundred percent positive, but I think she means somewhere other than a bar.)

I don’t like her. She’s so arrogant bitch, always talking like she has all the answers.

(Then go find another shrink.)

Tears blurred my vision. I don’t need another therapist. I just need you!

(Honey, what you need is a glass of water, a couple of aspirin and eight hours’ sleep.)

I’m not saying any of this because I’m drunk. I’m drunk because I have to say it!

(Uh-huh. They call that ‘semantics.’)

You’re not listening to me! I. Miss. You!

The wind whispered through the windows, branches tapping at the glass like impatient bones wanting in.

She finally responded: (I understand. Sometimes I feel the same way, too.)

Then why won’t you ever talk to me?

(Because it’s not about my responses is it. Those are just words,or really, just echoes of words. They won’t fill up the holes...)

I laughed shards. Oh, you must mean like the one in my chest where my heart used to be before you tore it out when you left.

(I’m not to blame, sweetie. How could I be?)

Then who is, tell me that?

(I don’t know. Who does? Might as well blame the fates.)

Oh, trust me I do, every day! Bitches!

A sigh touched my ears. (You’re hurting.)

Well, what did you expect?

(That you’d move on. I mean, isn’t that why you slept with Becky?)

I sputtered. You, you heard about that?

(Hon, there’s a clip of it on Youtube…)

I took a fresh hit off the bottle. It was nothing, really. Becky was just like, you know, a rebound.

(And Tara? And Sheila?)

Um, er, a rebound-rebound?

(Sounds like you’re getting more play than a basketball.)

My cheeks burned. You’re just deflecting. You still have feelings for me and you know it. Why not just admit it?

A pensive pause. (They say real emotions are always the last to go, she admitted, but even they eventually fade away. That’s the point. Everything changes, everything dies. You have to learn to let go…)

No!

(…or all you’ll be left holding is dust.)

But, but I, I love you!

Silence followed my words, the hush of an empty grave. Oh god, now I did it, I used the horrible “L” word! I tried to take it back, say I didn’t mean it, but of course it was too late, the genie was out of the whiskey bottle.

(No you don’t, she insisted. You just love the memory of me, the memory of us.)

I swiped away hot tears. Isn’t that good enough?

(Good enough for what?)

Talk to you tomorrow?

Seconds dripped off the clock, leaving dark trails down the wall.

(I couldn’t stop you if I tried, could I.) It was not a question.

That brought a tender smile to my lips. Same bat-time, same bat-channel?

(Only if you promise to work on that whole humor thing, ‘kay?)

Okay! Good-night…

She didn’t answer, the lines between us already dead and growing cold. But that was okay. I had her words and promise to keep me warm, didn’t I? My heart did a little Snoopy dance in my chest as I finished the rest of the beer, snubbed out my cigarette, put away the Ouija Board and turned off the light.

end

If you have enjoyed Stephanie Alexis Bonvissuto's "Long Distance, After Dark", then please be certain to e-mail her at  stephaniealexis8[at]hotmail.com  and thank her for posting this Story.

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