Part 2.3
Look, it's not that I didn't like the little good morning call. Quite far from it - it's nice when someone calls you to wish you good morning. I believe this, and I have done it myself. It's also nice when someone calls just to say hi or see how your day is going, or calls to let you know they hope work is going alright, or to check on how your drive home went.
Or calls to let you know that they checked the Weather Channel and saw there was a slight chance of storms in the afternoon, and they just wanted you to be aware.
Or to let you know a certain song popped on the CD player and they thought of you.
Or to say that they smelled a cologne in the store that reminded them of what you might wear, even though they've never once met you.
It's just that... I dunno. When they do all of those things in one day - after our only having talked twice... Well, it's a bit creepy. And if you add up the bits of creepy over the span of, oh, a week or so, you get a full creepy pie. After a while, it begins to wear on a soul to the point where they simply stop answering the phone. Unless they happen to be at work, in the presence of their boss, who isn't quite privy to the circumstance at large and looks down on an employee ignoring calls on their work line.
"Why don't you want to talk to me?!?" Jessica's tear-strained voice blubbered through the receiver before I could even say hello.
I closed my eyes as the pounding began in my brain. "Look," I said through a clinched jaw, "I'm at work right now... Can't we talk about this later-"
"Oh, we COULD," she snapped, "If you'd actually answer the phone!"
"I... Uh..." I looked up at my boss. "I have my boss in my office, and we're talking about some pretty important stuff..."
"See!" she exclaimed, sniffling. "Making up reasons not to talk to me!"
"I don't..." I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and reset myself. "It's not that I don't WANT to talk to you..."
"No, really," Jessica choked out through her tears. "It's alright. I... I understand..."
My boss, Gary, ducked his head and waved toward me. "I'll come back," he said as he opened the door to my office. "When you're less...
Busy..."
"No, wait - Gary..." I said as he exited. With a sigh, I returned my attention to the reason for my certain termination on the other end of the phone. "Look, Jessica..."
"It's so cute when you say my name like that," she said with a slight giggle and a severe mood swing.
"Nonono... Look, okay, this is serious!" I exclaimed. "This isn't supposed to be cute!"
"I know. That's what makes it so cute!"
It had been a week solid of the same damn thing. Every single day, I tried my best to duck her calls. Every single day, somehow I'd end up being tricked or forced into answering one. Every single day, I had to endure tears laced with venom and wild changes in tone from pitiful to playful. And for some reason that I couldn't explain back then and have come no closer to being able to explain now, I couldn't just tell her to jump off a bridge. If I had hazard a guess, I'd say that part of me couldn't be that harsh to someone so obviously vulnerable, and the other part of me figured that a suggestion like that might actually provoke her to do it. Which, as I look back on it now, would have been a completely satisfactory course of action.
With my teeth slowing grinding themselves into powder, I again tried to reason with her. "Jessica, look... I'm at work..."
"I know, doofus" she stated. "I dialed your work number... Helloooo..."
Calling someone doofus when you're 18? That's endearing. Calling them that when you're in your mid thirties? Using vocabulary half your age is equally as cute as dressing half your age. Which is to say it's not. It's pathetic. And if you do it, you're a doofus.
"You, like..." I stammered with equal parts embarrassment and anger. There I stood in my first real office at my first real job, with a wacko on the other end of the line who just called me the stupidest name ever - and I couldn't even yell.
"I like what?" she asked with a playful tone.
It was just too much. "OH MY GOD!" I snapped. "You have GOT to stop calling me! OKAY!?!"
She was silent for a second. "What, like... At work?"
"Anytime!" I barked. "EVER! Just... STOP!"
She paused. She huffed. She said "You... You..." And then she hung up, just like that.
I stared at the wall for a moment, absorbing what I'd just said. I didn't want to do that here... Not at work, and certainly not in front of my boss. I mean, I knew it had to be done, yes. And I figured that, when the time presented itself, I'd be purposeful in thought and deed and, like a verbal surgeon, cut only where I needed to and keep the scarring minimal.
But hey, If blurting it out like that got her the hell of the phone... Well, one penny spends as good as the next, as they say (actually, I have no clue who says this. Maybe I heard my dad say it once or something... I don't even know if it's a real saying. But maybe it should be).
I slowly placed the receiver on the cradle, and then gently lowered myself into my chair. I breathed a deep, cleansing breath.
My phone rang.
I didn't even have to battle with my subconscious to come to the conclusion that answering it would be a horrible, horrible idea. So I just let it roll to voicemail while I checked my email.
And then it rang again. So I began reading the day's news headlines.
And it rang again. And again. And again. And with each ring, a brand new ulcer appeared in my stomach. I was already seen as having an extraneous job position at this company and my attitude toward my detractors had done little to sway their opinion in favor of me. This was the last thing I needed.
So, once the line had finished ringing for the twelfth time, I picked up my phone and dialed BOSS Systems' network and phone support department.
"This is Reggie," the other end of the line chirped.
"Reggie, this is Joe Peacock," I stated.
"What can I do for you, Joe?" he asked in a manner that was unusual to me. I think it was the genuine kindness and willingness to help that threw me.
"Uh... Well, this is an odd question --"
"Try me!" he replied jovially.
I stammered for a moment. "Well," I said, "I'm wondering - is there any way we can block calls that come from outside the company to my phone?"
"Sure, that's easy," he stated. "Why would you want to do that though?'
"Well, uh..." I started, "I've got... Um... Well, I guess I'm getting unwanted calls to my desk from... A person..."
"Hmm," he said. "Do you need an outside line for any reason?"
"Um... Well, maybe I do," I replied. "It's possible, uh... Yeah, I probably do."
"One second," he said, and then placed me on hold. After a minute of listening to our company's hold music, he returned and happily announced that my problem was solved. "I changed your direct dial number. Should solve the problem."
"Oh... Well thanks, Reggie!" I stated.
"No problem!" he replied. "Good day!" And with that, he hung up.
And then there was peace. And it lasted approximately twenty minutes before...
"Joe?" my phone announced over the speaker, just after a sharp chirping alert.
"Yeah, Yvonne?" I replied to our company's receptionist.
"I have a call for you... Someone named Jessica?"
I growled.
"Um... Don't want to take it, I suppose?" she said with a chuckle.
"Oh, um... Sorry about that," I said, not realizing that that growl was outside of my own brain. "Yeah, I really don't..."
"No problem," she stated. "I've got it covered!" And just as quickly as it was with Reggie, she hung up and there was peace. And just like with Reggie, it lasted about twenty minutes.
My phone chirped again and Yvonne called over the speaker again.
"Yeah?" I replied, placing my middle finger and thumb on my temples in anticipation of what was coming.
"This lady, Jessica? She's uh... She's VERY persistent..."
"To say the least," I said with a grumble.
"Well, she's really disrupting the flow of calls here... Can you please talk to her and get her to quit calling?"
"It won't work," I sighed, "But sure, put her through."
"Okay," Yvonne said as her voice gave way to a loud beep which signified the connecting of a call from the front desk, which gave way to a rather loud and, frankly, impressive string of vulgarity.
"Hey hey hey!!!" I stated as I yanked the phone off the cradle to hang up the speaker. "Calm down!"
"CALM DOWN?!?" Jessica barked. "You ASSHOLE! I'm not going to calm down! You just tried to avoid me like a fucking COWARD, you can't even be a man and tell me you don't want to talk to me --"
"Uh... I think I DID tell you I don't want to talk to you," I replied. "Just before you hung up on me."
"Whatever!" She shouted. "You should be man enough to face a woman when you toss her aside! You should be willing to at least explain yourself!"
I thought for a moment. "If you wanted an explanation, then why did you hang up?" I asked.
"You pissed me off!" she yelled. "You can't... You were totally rude! I mean... GOD!"
"Look," I stated, "We cannot do this now, okay? I'm at work. You cannot keep calling my work, alright?"
"Then stop avoiding me!" she barked.
"Right, okay, I will - just... Let's talk about this tonight? Please? Can you just hold off calling me until then?"
She sighed. "You won't answer. You'll duck me."
"NO! I won't, I promise..." I regretted saying it the moment it came out of my mouth. I couldn't quite tell you why, but I knew that promising anything to someone like her couldn't possibly be a good thing.
She thought for a moment. "Fine," she huffed. "Tonight then." And she hung up.
And for the rest of the afternoon, there was peace. But that evening... Well, it was just plain awful. She called at least fifteen times before I actually managed to drive to my house and get in the door. I know this, because there were fifteen messages on my answering machine, each one presenting a profile of a person who was slowly slipping into madness from being "cast aside" and "left to rot" and other such colorful euphemisms.
Just as the thirteenth message was playing, the phone rang again. It was sheer force of effort that forced my arm out and made my hand take hold of the handset of my phone. With as cheerful a tone as I could muster, I greeted my caller. And thus sprang a cacophony of Jessica as the answering machine and the receiver of the phone simultaneously spewed the rants and raves of this crazy woman.
"Who is that in the background?!?" She snapped after a moment.
"It's... It's you," I replied.
"Ha, ha, very FUNNY!" she barked. "Who is it, really?"
"It's you!" I stated again. "It's the answering machine, playing one of your eleventy-billion messages!"
"Oh," she said. "Well, turn it off. We need to talk."
"Yeah, we sure do," I answered.
And we did. And for the entire conversation, I felt like a frightened Dalmatian fighting against the leash to which it was tethered as it was yanked and pulled hither and yon. She chastised my inability to show any sort of compassion toward her during this lonely time in her life in the same breath that she screamed about about my leading her on. I was an evil young man hell-bent on scoring an older woman. I was malevolent in my manipulation of her feelings. I was high and mighty and self-important due to the job I had and my ability to survive on my own two feet at such a young age.
And then, almost like someone flipped a switch, the tears began to flow. I was the best thing that had happened to her in the past few months. I was so intelligent and unique and special and she would do anything to make up for her behavior. I was everything she never knew she wanted in a friend and "lover" and it was fate that brought us together and who was she to argue with fate? And who was I to rebel against it? Why couldn't I see? Why couldn't I understand? What would she have to do to show me how STUPID and OBTUSE I was being... And boom - just like that, we were back on the flip side.
This went on for the better part of three hours. And for the entire duration, I just sat as silently as possible, verbally nodding in the right places and allowing her to get it all out of her system. A few times, she would wind down a bit and I'd attempt to make my move to cauterize the wound and terminate the conversation (and the relationship we didn't actually have), only to be silenced by a renewed enthusiasm for hearing herself talk. But eventually, she ran out of steam and I was given the chance to bring this thing down gently.
"Okay, I hear you," I said. "I do, I really do."
"Really?" she said through her tears.
"Yes, really," I stated. "And I want you to know, I understand where you're coming from. You're in a very difficult spot in life. You're feeling alone and unloved."
"YES!" she said. "Exactly!"
"And you need to believe that there's someone out there for you."
"Right... Right, I do."
"And you need a friend. Someone who understands you."
"Exactly."
"I... I'm not that person, Jessica."
She sat silent for a moment. "Of course you are," she said. "I mean... What you just said. That's exactly it. You get it."
"No," I replied. "I get your situation. I don't get YOU."
There was a hollow sound across the line. Finally she asked, "What do you mean?"
"Well, you've done a great job of explaining your situation. I just repeated what you've told me... I didn't figure any of this out, you told me what was going on."
She didn't reply.
"And I don't know what to make of it," I continued. "I mean... We don't know one another, at all. We talked a few times, and you've confided in me quite a lot... But I'll tell you, I didn't really get any of it. I mean, I heard you, but I don't know what to do with any of it. It seems like all you needed was someone to allow you to vent and get it all out. But everything I just told you? That you agreed with?"
"Yeah?" she chirped.
"You said all of that. Those were your words. You're the strong one here."
She thought for a minute. "I am?"
"Yeah," I stated. "I mean... I'm only 20! I don't know anything about life! I haven't been through what you've been through, in life OR in love. The divorces, the abuse, the moving around, your experiences with other... You know... Women..."
She chuckled at my naivety, which is what I was hoping for. I had no trouble with talking about lesbians - in fact, with all the porn I'd seen up to that point, I was quite the expert. But playing innocent seemed to convey the point that I had no clue what life was about, as did everything I was saying. It was all very carefully chosen and planned. And it seemed it was working.
"You have your answers," I continued. "You just needed to put a voice to them. And I'm glad I was here to help with that."
She sighed. "You're right," she said with a notedly relieved tone. "You're so right."
And now, the trump card. "I think the best thing for you, honestly, is to just take some time, right now, to just be with Jessica. Be by yourself. Get to know yourself again... Disappear. Take a trip somewhere. Meditate. But get to know yourself."
"Yeah... Yeah, that's a good idea," she agreed. "That's a great idea. You're so right."
"No, YOU were right," I echoed as I prayed that my plan worked. "You're the strong one, remember?"
"Wow... Thank you," she said with a smile I could hear on the other end of the line. "Really... Thank you. I am just... Wow, I'm SO embarrassed by my behavior, and you've been SO wonderful to handle it and help me out..."
"No problem," I said, sighing as quietly as I could so my relief wouldn't be so evident. I placed a little bit of cheer in my voice as I said "Now get started! Right now!"
"I will!" she said.
"Now remember," I said seriously, "This time now is CRUCIAL. You need 'you-time'. No one else can be as strong for you as you are. Not even me. Just... Jessica and Jessica alone, right?"
"Right. You're right," she agreed. "Thank you."
"No problem," I said. "I'm going to go now... Let you get started, alright?"
"Thanks," she said. "For everything."
"Good night, and good bye."
"Bye," she said as she hung up.
I placed the phone on the cradle. With a heave, I flung myself on my bed and just laid there, watching the ceiling fan spin nearly as fast as my head was.
The next day, I was on pins and needles as I awaited the inevitable call from Jessica. That night became the next morning, and the days began to accumulate to the point where you could call them a week, and there was no call. No voicemails at work; no messages on the answering machine. Nothing.
It was the eighth day of the streak and a particularly rainy Saturday. My roommates had decided to head off to do a little pawn shop hopping for the day, and I couldn't have possibly been more pleased - this freed up the Nintendo so I could go hunting for some of the more elusive stars in Super Mario 64. It was about eleven in the morning, and I had just settled into the beanbag chair with a tall glass of iced tea when I heard a knock at the door.
It took a moment for me to realize I couldn't just ignore it because the shades were open and whoever was there had already seen that I was home, so I begrudgedly lifted my unmotivated frame off the floor and plodded over to the door. I opened it to find an exceptionally skinny, middle-aged redhead standing on the porch, a suitcase in one hand and her heart in the other.
I knew immediately who it was.
"Uh... Hi," I said.
She smiled and shrugged nervously. "Surprise," she said with a whisper.
"Jessica?" I asked rhetorically.
She answered anyway. "Yep... Hi..."
"What, um... What?" I asked.
"Well, uh..." She stammered, "you said to take a trip... Soooooo, here I am..."
I wanted to explode. I wanted to scream and run away. I wanted to call the police. But instead of all of that, I simply heard my mother's voice echoing in my head, reminding me of my proper upbringing. "Um... Come in," I said, pushing the screen door open.
She did.
I didn't quite know what to say or do. "So what, uh... How did you-"
"Your order," she replied. "From MusicNow. I, uh... Looked it up."
"Oh," I said in a tone that explained that I had no idea what to think of that. "And so, you just... You know... Came out here?"
"Yeah," she said. "Flew in this morning."
"Well," I said, not quite sure what I was going to say next.
Whatever you do, do NOT say "Welcome to Atlanta."
There you are! I was wondering when my subconscious was going to start giving me obvious advice again.
You are standing in your own living room talking to a woman from Phoenix who's old enough to be your mother because you didn't listen to me when I advised you to hang up the first night she called. So, like, fuck you and stuff.
Touche.
I'd bow, but that'd look pretty silly and probably complicate things with this wacko even further.
So... What do we do?
I'm working on it...
"So, uh... You mind if I sit down?" she asked.
"Sure, go ahead," I replied. "Uh... Do you want something to drink? Or something?"
"Yeah, sure... Water would be fine," she replied as she sat on the couch.
I nodded, smiled nervously, and went into the kitchen to get a knife to slit my own throat with. But all our knives were dirty, and I was afraid of catching some sort of food-borne illness from them, so instead of slicing my jugular, I got Jessica a glass of water.
I returned from the kitchen and handed her the glass. I then took a seat across from her on the beanbag chair I'd previously occupied. She drank, then smiled at me. I smiled from one side of my mouth and began staring at the floor.
"Well, this is certainly a surprise," I offered.
"Yeah," she said, putting the glass down. "I... I shouldn't have come."
"Possibly," I replied. "I mean... Your plan was to just show up on my doorstep and hang out for, what... The weekend?"
She shook her head. "I leave out next Friday."
"A WEEK?!?" I blurted out. "I mean... You just thought you'd show up unannounced for a week?"
She looked up at the ceiling, then back at the floor. "Something like that," she replied.
"That's..."
"Crazy," she interjected. "I know. I'm thinking the same thing right now..."
"Well, then... Like... Why?"
Her lip quivered slightly and she sighed. "I don't know," she said, picking up her water glass. "I just... I mean, I took your advice, you know? I took some time off work, and I spent some time just... Alone, you know? And I knew you said you didn't want me to call, and you said to take a trip somewhere, and..." She took a sip from her glass and looked at me for a moment.
"Soooooo," I said, "You thought, 'I'll go to Atlanta; see how Joe's doing?' Is that it?"
She rolled her eyes. "I know, it's stupid..."
"It's not stupid," I said. "It's really... Strange..."
"I dunno, Joe!" She said, placing her glass back on the floor. "I just... I mean, I know the answers are within me, like you said. I know I have them, I just... I felt lost, you know? And when you talked to me that night, I felt so... Together? Like everything made sense?"
I blinked.
She continued. "I just... I needed that. I needed that feeling again. And I felt like you may not answer the phone, you know? For my own good? Because I needed to be by myself and figure myself out? But I really needed that anchor... The grounding you provide..."
I didn't say a word. Mostly because I had absolutely none to say.
"And I felt like, if you could just SEE me... Know me... Maybe you'd..." She stirred a moment, and then sighed heavily. "God... I feel so STUPID," She exclaimed as she sank back into the couch. "This is such a bad idea... I mean, I shouldn't... I just really wasn't thinking..."
"It's... It's alright," I said. It wasn't, but admitting it wouldn't have helped anything.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "I... Where's your phone?"
I pointed to the end table on the far side of the couch. "Why?" I asked.
"I'm gong to call the airline," she said. "See if I can switch my ticket out and fly out tonight... I feel so horrible..."
She reached for the phone. I watched as she dug through her bag to find her ticket and dialed the number on it. I listened as she conversed with the operator on the other end of the line. I watched as she grabbed her credit card to pay the fee for switching the flight. I sighed heavily as she hung up the phone.
"Tomorrow morning, nine fifteen," she said, referring to the time her flight took off. "Look - I am really, really sorry about all of this. I'm... I'm out of my mind. And I know that. But I have to ask you a favor."
"Okay," I replied flatly.
"Would you mind if I just... Um... I just spent the rest of my money changing the ticket, and I have no place to go..."
"You need a place to stay..." I said.
"...Yeah," she answered.
In a race for reactions, sympathy beats disgust by a nose. Before I could reconcile it within myself, I blurted out "Yeah, that's fine."
"Thanks," she said with a smile. Immediately, she laid back and closed her eyes. I can't be sure, because quite frankly my mind was in at least two hundred different places at that moment, but I'd be willing to gamble that she was asleep before her eyelids had fully shut. Inside of five minutes, she was snoring.
The woman was able to fall asleep in less than five minutes in a complete stranger's house who she'd just surprised with an unannounced visit from Phoenix. As fucking looney as she was, there was a part of me who couldn't help but be envious of that sort of audacity. But there was a whole other part of me who dreaded explaining all of this to the two least sympathetic people on the planet when they arrived home in a few hours.
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