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| Wednesday, August 31, 2005 |
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The ringing did not meld into my dreams. No, it abruptly and completely woke me out of them. Before I even realized that I was awake, I felt adrenalin coursing through me. Before I realized that I was awake at 2.42 am because the phone had rung, I had lifted myself to my elbows, listening.
The second ring brought conscious thought. "Who this time?" "Not again."
My mother's answering machine picks up after 3 rings. I wait for the third to fade away and pad slowly, mechanically, down the stairs, my heart beating as if I had run down 15 flights. I stop about 5 feet from the answering machine and stare at it. "Who will it be? How will I hold her together again?" But both the phone and the answering machine hanging on the kitchen wall are silent. Long after I needed to, I stand waiting for the red light to blink, then turn around to stare at my mobile phone on the table. Nothing.
Heart rate returning to normal, I trudge back up the stairs and climb back into my bed. I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling, remembering. And thinking about how this is one of the few occurrences in my life where the melodrama isn't self-created or intentional, but instinctual. Thinking about people who say, "at least when you lost him you were finished growing up. At least it won't leave a scar." |
posted by LoRi~fLoWer
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