He called her again that evening. She didn't answer. "Hey, I didn't catch you this morning, so I thought I'd try again. I know you've been complaining that I don't call as often as I should, but you know that I hate phone conversations."The Roman poet Sextus Propertius gave us the earliest form of this saying in Elegies:
"Always toward absent lovers love's tide stronger flows."The contemporary version appears in The Pocket Magazine of Classic and Polite Literature, 1832, in a piece by a Miss Stickland:
'Tis absense, however, that makes the heart grow fonder.The phrase was also source material for the lewd wordplay:
"Absinthe makes the fart grow stronger".
He paused to take a breath and think about his next words. "I just wish you could be here, and we were face-to-face, you know, like we used to be."
He had rehearsed this conversation before he dialed. He didn't remember his lines. "It's just hard, because you're not here, and I can't . . . I hate phones."
Silence greeted him.
"Well, I just thought I'd call and let you know how much I miss you, and I love you and stuff, and . . . It's hard being apart, you know? Wait up, I'm getting a call--"
"Well, I just thought I'd call and let you know how much I miss you, and I love you and stuff, and . . . It's hard being apart, you know? Wait up, I'm getting a call--"
It was her on the other line.
"Hey, baby?"
"What's up? I'm sorry, I missed your call, it's pretty loud here."
"What did you say?" He plugged his other ear and still couldn't hear what she was saying.
"I said I'm sorry I missed your call. What did you want?"
"I'll call you back later. It's too hard to hear you." He was yelling at the phone, getting frustrated.
"No, if it's important, tell me now!"
"I'll call you back later. It's too hard to hear you." He was yelling at the phone, getting frustrated.
"No, if it's important, tell me now!"
"It's not, just . . . where are you?"
"Oh, you know - at a friends'. Why, where are you?"
"Oh, you know - at a friends'. Why, where are you?"
"I'm studying. I . . . nevermind."
"You called me for something!"
"While I've got you here, let me tell you about this crazy thing that happened to me today!"
He paused and listened to the thumpthumpthump in the background and the yelling voices and the shrill scream of the woman he missed.
Then she stopped talking and he heard a different voice. "Hey, who is this?"
"Where's Stacy?"
"Dude, she's at a party, and you're harshin' the vibe, bro. Cell phones no comprendo fiesta, mi hombre!"
Fratboy. "Dude, that's my girlfriend. Can you just give her back the phone?"
"No can do, bud."
"Who the heck are you? Can I just get Stacy back, I have to say goodbye."
"Whatever, man."
"Hey, sorry!"
"Who the heck was that?" He tried not to sound angry.
"Who the heck was that?" He tried not to sound angry.
"That's my ex, I was just over at his house, and--"
His phone made a pinging sound as it bounced down the hallway.
That's awful. Also, I'm not entirely sure what was going on. Reading it again... Yeah, I understood it better.
ReplyDeleteStill, why was she screaming so loudly
(while talking)?
What happens when she listens to her messages?
Just wondering.
I don't know. I didn't write that part of the story.
ReplyDeleteShe was screaming because she was at a party and it's super loud there. I guess.
Makes sense. I still liked what you did with it, though. Especially the throwing of the phone.
ReplyDeleteI don't really like it. Unrelieved gloom and all that. In my head, there's so much more, but poetically it has to end there because . . . after that line, there is only destructive force. Any words just get in the way of the feeling of anger.
ReplyDeleteYeah. That's the hard part.
ReplyDelete