The Phone Rings
The phone rings and I jump
out of a sound sleep,
my heart racing.
In the past, phone calls this
late have meant injured uncles
sick family members,
crazy moms calling about
their kids’ science fair projects
My hand shakes as I reach
for the phone
because I know that this
call could actually mean that
someone close to me is
finally gone.
“Hello? Mom?”
“Hey, did I
wake you?”
“Ray....cryin’ out loud,
it’s friggin’ 1:30 in the morning!”
“Doh! Then you
were asleep!”
I groan. Okay, so someone
very close to me is
ABOUT to be gone...
“You hungry?” he asks.
“Man, I gotta be up teaching
in 4 hours...”
“So?”
So?, I’m thinking. What do you
say to that?
“Come on, it’s
just breakfast...we’ll be back by 2:30. I wanna talk to you.”
“Ray...”
“Live a
little.”
It is a challenge. Can Daina
live a little
or will she go back into her
little teacher world
of books, children, numbers
and
early bedtimes and morning
wake-up calls.
I groan into the pillow. “If
you play Patsy Cline on Waffle House’s
jukebox again...”
”Cra-zy, Crazy
for be-ing...”
“No, no, don’t sing...I’ll go, just gimme 5 minutes.”
The phone rings and I turn
over
thinking, “Life canNOT be
this unfair.”
Sunday at 9:00am.
Friggin’ telemarkets.
If I wait long enough, the
caller will get the service
and I can go back to
sleeping.
But NOOOO.
The phone jangles 4 times
and goes silent.
Then it does it again.
And again.
And ag...
“WHAT????” I bellow into the
receiver.
“Hey. You
asleep?”
Friggin Ray...
“Ray....it’s Sunday, man.
You know Sunday is the
sacred sleep in day.”
“Pore
poo-poobear!”
he says.
“Let’s play
some racquetball.”
“What, now?”
“No, not now.
10 minutes.”
“Ray, I’m sleeping. Besides,
you’ll kick my butt!”
“Well, you’re
cute and built and all, do something with that.”
Like what, I think, lay on
the floor weeping
about no rest and a sucky
court until
you pity me and give me a
few points?
“Whatever.”
“Okay, see you
in 15 minutes.”
“What? Ray????”
Too late....
The phone rings and I pick
it up.
“Ray, I’m not going to
Laurie Anderson,
any poetry readings,
to breakfast at Waffle
House,
none of that crap. I’m
grading papers.”
“No,” he says, and I’m not
surprised it’s him although
I am
surprised that he’s calling
as early as 8pm
(on a school night even)
“Let’s go to
Barnes & Noble...get some books or
coffee or
something.”
I pause. This sounds like
a conspiracy.
“You’re not gonna stand
there looking
stupid at me in the middle
of the sci-fi section,
are you?”
No!”
“You’re not gonna follow me
around the store?”
“No.”
“You’re not going to
critique any
picture books to small
children?”
“Not again.”
I laugh and we go. It’s a
poetry reading
and I’m not surprised.
Neither is the small child
who had no
idea that “The Cat In The
Hat” could
have so many hidden
meanings.
The phone rings and I
immediately hear,
“Hey there,
darlin’, you can be the queen
of my dou-ble wiiiide!”
“Shut up, Ray!” I laugh.
“what do you want?”
“Let’s get a
movie tonight.”
Uh-oh....
“Do you already HAVE this
movie?”
“Well, no...”
“Oh, daa-amn, Ray, you know
we can’t agree
on no movie, man!”
“No, this
time, we won’t go through the whole store.”
“This time you have to be
flexible.”
“Well, don’t
pick any stupid movies,” he says.
“Well, don’t pick anymore
dark humor movies,” I retort.
“Alright, come
on over. We’ll stay for no more than 30 minutes.”
I hang up, knowing we need
to hurry.
It’s 7pm now and Blockbuster
closes at 12am...
The phone rings and I say,
“Talk to me.”
“Bowling,” he says.
“Bowling,” I say, “is an
officially recognized non-ethnic sport.”
“I think it’s
time to break that stereotype.”
“You also believe that
Grimace from McDonaldland
is really a radioactive
pear, so why should I listen to you?”
“Are you going
or not?” he
demands.
“Do I have a choice?” I ask.
“Yeah, you can
either be
ready to bowl
in 10 minutes
or be ready to
have me
lay around
your apartment for 2 hours.”
“Bowling suddenly sounds
like
a plan and a half,” I say.
“See you in
10,” he
says, and you can hear
the grin before the click on
the other end.
The phone hasn’t rung in a
while.
Not the way it used to.
Every time it did, a door
opened up and an
6 foot tall elf
would enter with mischief on
his mind
and threaten my little world
of
boredom with the hint of
something
new
different,
foreign,
non-ethnic.
It was all I could do, I
thought,
to keep his idiot from
wrecking my life
with his crazy crap.
Now it’s all I can do
to do all that
crazy crap without him.
So, gimme a call, Ray,
(if God will let you borrow
a quarter)
“cause I still haven’t been
to Laurie Anderson
or the bull fights or nude
mudwrestling
with midgets
and I can go without you
but I need to fight about it
with you first.
Snow Sprite
1:43am.
I am
sleeping angrily, knotted tightly in three blankets against the world.
It’s
January, very cold in Dallas. Plenty of biting wind and not a lick of snow, not
one lousy flake. Someone has it in for this Northern gal. With my luck, that’s
probably them on the line now....
The
phone rings again and I realize that I am no longer sleeping angrily.
I
fumble with the phone for a full 5 seconds, not because I’m truly tired, but
because I want the caller to FEEL that they have disturbed me enough to
disorientation.
“.....hello?”
I whisper hoarsely.
“Hey,
what’re you doing?”
The
fog refuses to leave my eyes, but my brain has already registered the voice...
“Oh my
God,” I mutter, rolling over and talking into the pillow. “Ray, what do you
want?”
“You
awake?” he asks.
I
snort and say, “With all these brains, kid, it’s a wonder you find your way out
of the house in the morning.”
“I
follow the trail of discarded clothing,” he says, the adds, with a smile in his
voice, “I’m am suddenly reminded of our relationship!”
I am
suddenly struck with a wave of nausea. “I don’t see why,” I comeback sweetly,
“since you haven’t mentioned anything about 3 months worth of rejection from a
beautiful woman.”
“Actually,
the word discarded reminded me that being dumped by a stud like myself must
really bite. Any comments on that?”
“You
are such an ass!” I say, trying to sound mad, but laughing at his gall. “You
made an awful boyfriend!”
“You
make a great friend,” he says, and I cannot argue with this. “So, come on
over.”
“Ray,
I have school in 6 hours. Remember, I don’t do the waitress thing with you
anymore, I’m on teacher time now.”
“You
don’t have school today...” he begins.
“Yes,
I do; it’s Friday,” I say.
“No,
you don’t, it’s...”
“I do,
too! School goes on every weekday in the real world.”
“Please
look out the window...”
“Ray,
let ME be right this time? I am not...”
“Wouldja
stop arguing with me and look out the frickin’ window???”
I
gasp, taken aback. “Fine!” I practically spit, jerking the blinds up with a
wicked snap.
I
cannot believe my eyes.
Before
me, bathed in the amber-melon holy light of the lamp post, is my own private
winter wonderland. Large, downy flakes slide heavily down the strands of wind
like thousands of white moths with no wing power.
I cannot catch my breath.
I look
down at it collecting on the streets, then up to watch it fall in the
streetlight shadows.
“Oh,
Ray,” I whisper, as if he’d made it personally and given it to me.
“I
woke you f’r that,” he mutters. “If you would shut up and just be WRONG every
once...”
“You’d
never talk to me again,” I reply before he can finish. I swallow tearful joy
and continue to be mesmerized by the outside world. “It’s beautiful, Ray.”
He
smiles over the phone, a smile you can actually hear. “Hmph,” he says, trying
to feign disinterest. “So, get over here, let’s watch cars slide down Highway
121.”
Reality
sets in with a thud and I am no longer Daina Threats, breathless 6 year old
snow queen, I am now Daina Threats, sleepy 26 year old teacher. “Ray, I
can’t...I have school in the morning.”
“Do
you ever listen to the voice of reason?” he sighs.
“Yes,”
I reply, ”it just never sounds like you.”
“There’s
no way they’re having school tomorrow, Daina. This is Texas. If a flake hits
the ground, school’s cancelled. Dallas’s three sandtrucks just can’t handle
that kinda pressure.
“Yeah,
but...”
“Shut
up a minute,” he says, and I am again shocked, yet amused to silence. “How bad
can it possibly be to do this? Even if by some amazing chance you have to go to
school, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“I get
fired for falling asleep in class.”
“No.
You go to school and you’re tired and happy because you played in the snow in
the middle of the night like the snow sprite you are and your children see the
happy light in your eyes and they say “Wow, our teacher rules!” and they get
happy and people tell you how you’ve inspired their children to live their
lives to the fullest.” He takes a breath and adds, “And I tell you how cute
black girls look when their cheeks turn red from the cold.”
I hate
this guy so much I’d marry him if he let me. “I really hate your system of
logic,” I smile.
“You
hate that I’m right.” he smiles back. “So get dressed and come on over.”
I
sigh. The argument was over when the phone rang. ”Meet me at Whataburger in 10
minutes.”
“Later,”
he says and hangs up.
I sit
for a moment, thinking he’s the most irresponsible brat I know, then the 6 year
old takes over again and I get dressed with a giggle.
I run
downstairs and open my mouth under the snowy skies, catching a few bits of
heaven on my tongue and...
...I
fly.
A few
hours later, when I finally get into bed and back to sleep, smiling over snow
angels and plastic bag sleds, the phone rings again...it’s the school.
“Daina,
this is the emergency line...no school today.” said a tired voice.
I
smile. “I know,” I say...then hang up and snuggle back in for the winter. Friggin’ Ray, I think, grinning again...always gotta be right!
Time’s
passed since my friend Ray Henderson was killed in a car accident, right at the
same corner that he and I watched cars slid across that night. You may never
have met him, but you know him well if you know me...you can see him in the
light in my eyes and hear him in my laugh. He used to take me out of my little
box all the time, making me go and do and see these “stupid new things” just to
expand my horizons, learn something new or just have a little breathless fun
being young and out of control. I didn’t realize how much that meant to me
until it was gone...and then I didn’t know how to get it back. It took me a
while to realize it, but now...
...I have learned...
...when I try something
new...
...see something different...
...or just let my mind drift
away...
...I can still see the
amber-melon holy light...
...and still taste the
heavens on my tongue...
...and feel the wings of a 6
year old snow sprite...
...unfurl and take
flight....
...all by themselves.