Tuesday, August 31, 2010
a small conversation
"I'm sorry, what?" She winced.
"Is this correct? You corral the little bugger?"
"Uh, yes." She guessed. "I work at the library."
"Really? A real librarian, now are you?" His voice was playful and unlike Ian's. "And its your birthday? Is it?"
"Yes, yes, it is." She snuggled next to her pillow, thinking how old she really was. What little she'd accomplished.
"Might, I ask? How old you are? You don't sound ancient? By any means. More like a child." He told her.
"I'm-I'm twenty-four." She answered.
"Sweet age. Indeed. Do you wear? What is it, spectacles? Black horned rimmed ones??" He asked. "Sorry, just trying to get a picture of you in my head. Ian doesn't seem to have one."
Kayla listened, thinking of all things she wished she'd done with Ian. Like having his picture. Just a snapshot. But that had never happened. Possibly never would.
"I'm sorry, I must be boring you, its not a good time for this, is it?" The reality came clear. This was the last thing he needed to be doing under the dismal circumstances.
"Oh, no. Its-its my fault. I had asked Ian if he'd let me hear your voice. Just didn't expect it would be 5:30 in the morning. I was thinking it would be later, you know, right before he left to come home. Not when he got there." She apologized.
"Its all right. It was a nice chat. Have some fun today. OK?" He clicked off then. She'd hoped to talk to Ian a bit more. She knew Ian hadn't been himself since he heard the news about his mother.
Kayla clutched the cell next to her. All she could do was cry because she couldn't think of anything else she could do for Ian.