Telephone Girl

Abstract

KEVIN SAMPSELL TelephoneGirl B hecomesoverat sixevery night, handsmea cordlessphone,and thensitsacrossfrom me,smiling. I start dialingsomeone. I've calledmymother, myex-girlfriend, and sometimes thenew womanatwork.IfI callone ofmymalefriends, thegirlwillpoutand looklikesheisabouttocry. I do notknowwhosheis,butI willtry todescribeher.She istall andawkwardly thin, as ifsheisstill growing intoherframe. I think sheis maybehighschoolage,judging from thewayshedresses, though sometimesshewearsnicebusiness -lady suits, buttoned uptight atherthroat. Hereyesarebiganddarkblueanda little bitfarapart.Shehasperfectly smoothcheeks.Herbrownhairhasa boyish swoop,slightly interrupted bya cowlick atherright temple. Mymomisgetting tiredofmecalling her.Atfirst shewasworried thatsomething was wrong, butnow she mustthinkI'm playing some kindofgame.I usedto onlycallheroncea year.The girldoes notcare whatmymomsaystome.Shejustlistenstomysideofitall. "I justwantedtoseehowyour daywas...No,Im doingokay... What showareyouwatching?... MaybeI shouldcomevisit yousometime..." SometimesI tryto steerthe conversation in certaindirections to see ifitpleasesthegirl.Shewillnod herhead ifitdoes. Sometimes hersmilegoesawaybutshesitsthereand nodsenthusiastically. When I reminisce withmyex-girlfriend abouta skitrip we tooktenyearsago, thegirlisnoddingso muchthatI'mafraid she'sgoingtohurtherneck. One nightI asked her ifshe was hungry and told her I could maketacos. I had boughttaco shellsthatdayat the store.I usually don'tmaketacosat home because I livealone and nothingis sadder than a bachelormakingtacos by himself.She shakesher head and pointsatthephone. 139 AnothernightI madefancy drinks forus- a combination ofvarious juicesand alcohol- to see ifthatwouldmakehermorepersonable, butsheignoredthemand handedme thephone.I sattherea minute, almoststaring herdown,butI lostmynerveandlookedatthephonein mylapinstead.I pusheditsbuttons andwaited. "Hello,isSandy working*" I saidintothemouthpiece. Sandyworks withmeata container store.ItiscalledContainers. The girlstoodup andwentto thebathroom as I waitedforSandy togeton thephone.Itwasthefirst timethegirlhadusedmybathroom. I gotuptooandquietly movedtothedoortolisten.I wasn'tsurewhatI waslistening forthough. "Thisis Sandy, mayI helpyour5" I hearda trickling soundanda heavy breathing soundfrom inside thebathroom. The soundofthetoiletseatbeingclosed.The quickburst offaucet wateron thegirl's hands. "Hello.Thisis Sandy." I mademywaybacktothechairinmyliving roomjustasthebathroomdooropened . "Oh, hi, Sandy.Can you checkmyscheduleforthisweekend, pleaseř" "Whoisthis?" Sandyasked. I wasembarrassed thatSandystilldidn'trecognize myvoice,butI kepttalking likewewereold friends. "I'mgoingtoa friend's housefora barbecueand I justwanttomakesureI getoff intime." I couldhearSandy's confused stammering on theotherendofthe lineand thenshe said flatly, "Oh, it'syou.Yeah,youworkthesameas usual.Tentothree, no lunch." The girl satacrossfrom meagain, leaning in,listening closely. I tried tomaketheconversation lastlonger, so I wouldn't havetocallmymomor ex-girlfriend. "Do youlikebarbecues?" I askedSandy. I couldhearSandy sighand thenshesaidshewas helping a customer and hadto go."Okay, sure," I said,andafter shehungup I pretended thatI wasstilltalking to her."Wouldyouwanttogowithmeř"I saidto thedialtone.I probably soundedtooconfident, toofake, likeanactorreciting a line."Great! That's great," I continued. I couldhearmyowndumbvoicebouncing backatme. 140 •jL; • This strategy proveduseful and I usediton mostnights whenthe girl cameover.I playedoutcheery conversations withmymomthatconcludedwithme saying, "I loveyou,too."I pretended to haveheart-tohearttalks withmyex,sometimes endingwitha cracking voiceandfake tears.The woman I workedwithwouldtalkto me (or so I imagined) aboutmoviesandbasketball. I wasbecoming a realconversationalist. The girlsatthere, staring, and sometimesI wonderedifshewas catching on. Sometimes shewincedatthethings I said. . irg tiiiiiTif One night, shedidn'tshowup and I felta hugesenseofrelief. I was able to actually turnon thelocalnewsandwatchthebeautiful anchorladyreport on all theday'sbad news.Itseemedto floatright over myheadand I foundmyself laughing. Atthenewsofpoliticalscandals, carcrashes, theweather, and thecommercials. I laughedas muchas I couldbecausetheairin theroomwas all mine.Thirty minutes later, I turned off thetelevision andlookedatthedoor,expecting stilltoseethe telephone girl, butshewasnotthere.I started togeta stomachache and realizeditwasworry thatI wasfeeling. I openedthedoor and saw theskygetting darker. I didn'tknow thegirl'sname,so I justcoughedintotheairand gotno response.I steppedoutontothefront porchandcoughedlouderandlouderandit almostsoundedlikea bark.I wantedto shoutHey!butcouldn'tmake mythroat do it.I wentbackinsidebutkeptthedooropen.I wonderedif I shouldcallthepolicebutI wasn'tsurewhatI wouldsay. I lookedatthe phonecradleand myphonewasn'tthere.I ranthrough thehouseand couldn't finditanywhere. I waspanicking andfelt theairgetting sucked outofmeas I shrank tothefloor. I pressedmyforehead intothecarpet andtriedtobreathe deeplytoregain myequilibrium. I rolledoveronmy backandcouldn'tmovefora while.I watchedtheroomgrowas darkas theskyoutside."Hey!"I finally gotout,and thesoundofitpiercedthe 141 silencelikea gun.Andthenthesoundofringing. I boltedupright andscrambled tomyfeet. The ringing wascoming from wherethecradlewas.I turned on a lightand thephonesatthere, softly calling outlikeithadalways beenthere. Eachringsoundedlouder and moreurgent untilI finally pickedit up and answered.It was my mom.Shewantedtotellmeaboutherdayandshewantedtotellmethat shelovedme.And thenmyex-girlfriend calledand shewas crying and shesaidshecouldn't stopthinking ofme.Shesaidthatshewouldalways lovemeno matter what.AndthenSallyfrom workcalledandsheasked meifI wantedtotaketheweekendoff withher.Shesaidshewantedme togowithhertothatplaceon thecoastI wastelling herabout. When I finally hungup,a coupleofhourslater, mywholebodyfelt likeitwasringing. Whilebrushing myteeth before bed,I started silently weeping.I lockedmydoors,turned offthelights, andcrawledintobed. That'swhenthephonerangagain.I answered itandwaitedforsomeone to saysomething. Therewas silenceand I wonderedifitwas thetelephonegirl .I listened foranyclueofher- anywordorbreath.I heldthe phoneinthedarkness likeI was holdingherhand.I imaginedshewas holdingherphonethesameway Myhandfeltthewarmth ofher.She waitedpatiently formetotalkandthentosaygoodbye. 142 ...