228. Hanging on the Telephone

I called Jonathan after that. I went up to my room and lay down in bed and called him. I know it was late. But. But.

But I wondered if we had the kind of relationship where calling up in the middle of the night being a freak case was okay. I wondered if that was the kind of relationship I wanted to have. I dialed his number before I could go through too many more rounds of that kind of wondering.

“Hello?” He sounded awake.

“You up?” I asked.

“Daron. I’m always up for you, haha, no pun intended. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Is it totally cliche to say I just wanted to hear your voice?”

“Yes, but you know, normal people are allowed to use cliches all they want. It’s only we artistes who have to avoid them.”

We both laughed at that, and I felt better already. I could have probably said goodnight right then.

But I didn’t. I told him about Louis, and about Shiree, and about the Solar 250, which to my amazement he had even heard of, and rehearsal in general. I did not tell him about Ziggy shoplifting from the CVS or anything that happened after. As it was, we talked for over an hour, and then he started to yawn and I got the hint.

I was pretty tired myself. It had been a pretty busy day, after all. “Tell me the truth, is this too late to call you?”

“No, it’s not. I don’t have a phone in the bedroom. If I’ve already gone to sleep, you’ll get the machine. What about you? What’s the latest I can call you?”

“There’s no limit to how late, just don’t call too early.” I yawned for real. “Good night, J.”

“Good night, D. Sleep well.”

“Sweet dreams.”

“Nighty night.”

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“Hang up now, you dear thing,” he said with a laugh, and so I did.

(By the way, if you haven’t heard The Jolly Boys’ cover of this song, you ought to. Perhaps I’ll put something in the next liner notes about that…)

16 Comments

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.