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A Call From the Moon

July 2, 2015

“No Caller ID” my phone flashed.

I looked at the screen, deciding whether I should answer it or not. I remembered that Lennon Glasses had a phone with no i.d. It freaked me out every time he called. So I picked it up.

“Hello,” someone said on the other end, with an accent.

“Uh, I am calling about my picture frame….”

“Oh, I think you have the wrong number,” I said.

“Oh, let me check the number here……” then a moment of silence.

“It’s [Mr. Moon].”

“[Mr. Moon!], oh my God!”

“I’m calling to tell give you a late Happy Birthday.”

“Wow. It’s so good to hear your voice. How are you?”

“Eeehhh, I am ok. You know me. I am not bad.”

I laughed. I couldn’t believe he had called. I asked about his visit with family. He said his mother was with him in Sweden. He said he missed Lafayette and #5. I asked about his job offer. “Nobody knows about that,” he said. “So don’t say anything.” I laughed. “Who would I say anything to?”

We talked awkwardly for a few minutes and I was surprised to hear him say that he missed being in the U.S. That it was more fun here. He had walked around like such an Eeyore all the time. But he was considering coming back.

“I miss you,” I said.

“I miss you too,” he said in his awkward, accented Mr. Moon way.

He said he was still taking his mom to Paris in July and that she was bored in Sweden. I told him that his friends had come to my party and he asked for the silly wish list I made.

I asked him how “other things,” were going and he pussy-footed around saying, “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know what I’m going to do and what is going to happen.” Which is an answer in and of itself.

We ran out of things to say and he started to say good-bye. He asked me to say hi to #5 and the Moon. And then he said, “and you know, about the story you wrote…..when I have more time, maybe we will talk about it more.”

“Ok,” I said, not knowing what that meant. He couldn’t have hated it or thought I was completely nuts, or he wouldn’t be talking to me, I guess.

“I think about you all the time,” I said.

“I don’t know what to say to that,” he said.

“You don’t have to say anything. It wasn’t a question.” He laughed.

“Wish me good things,” he said.

“I always do,” I answered.

I hung up and lay back on the cement landing just outside my door. I had been sitting on the steps as I talked to him.

“What the fuck is going on?” I wondered out loud.

I seemed to be attracting a plethora of male attention and all of it just feathers in the wind. Castles of sand. None of it is real.

I walked inside. “He’s not going to get a divorce,” I said to myself. His every word was filled with indecisiveness and inaction. He’s not going to do anything. He’s treading water waiting for life to do something to him.

God help me if he comes back here, still married. I have proven myself to be childishly weak when it comes to staying away from someone I have a crush on. Or someone who is willing to give me the kind of attention I crave.

Married. California. Paris. Seeing other people.

Isn’t there anyone out there who actually wants to have a relationship with me?

Ah, fuck it. You know what? I wouldn’t trade this time in my life for all the safe, supposedly-happy days of underlying tension and loneliness in a marriage that was slowly crushing my soul, like a frog in a pot of nice, warm water….for a billion dollars.

I’d rather flit and flirt and kiss and have flings and come home to the beautiful solitude of my magnificent #5.

Even if this is all I get to have. I’ll take it, damn it.


From → Rantings

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