No More No More

Vermont

No school on Labor Day.  So far Anthony's called nearly every night.  We talk for hours until my mom tells me to go to bed because I'll burn out the phone bill.  I had to remind her that I'm the one paying for my phone.  Oh, shit.  I'm one paying for my phone.  I have no money.  That, my friends, is why I work at the clothing store down the block.

      The first time Anthony didn't call was last night.  I didn't even get to wish him happy birthday.  He's nineteen now.  I actually felt kind of weird talking to him still.  I've acknowledged the fact that yes, maybe I do like him a little.  I went to the apartment at five o'clock after I picked up the pizza.  Nothing like good Italian cooking to welcome him home for the weekend.  I gotta admit, I was super pumped to see him.  I hoped he would bring his guitar so that we could jam a little.  I had my harmonica in my back pocket and I was ready to belt some tunes.  Man, I love the blues.  There's something about them... I don't know yet.

       Mary, Anne-Marie, Janet, Tom, Charlie, Mr. Pereira (once he got home), and I were all scattered around the living room.  A Yardbirds record was palying in the background.  I continually glanced at the door.  Five minutes after five...

       I swear I was waiting forever.  Janet had to leave at seven because she had a thing with James.  Ten minutes after seven... Twenty... Thirty...

      Charlie eventually got bored with the music station on the black and white TV and bid us farewell.  Anne-Marie went to bed, Mr. Pereira started reading his stocks.  Mary, Tom and I stayed up waiting until eleven.  I munched on the now room-temperature pizza and listened to the B-side of an album by the Who.  I new Anthony's collection almost as well as my own.  I leaned agaist Tom with my eyes closed, knowing he wouldn't care.

--

Various quiet slamming (wow, what a contradiction) noises are going on the the kitchen.  Did I not shut my door?  It's so loud!  I drift back to unconciousness.  What seems like seconds later, I'm awoken to a smell only described as Mama's cooking.  Waffles and bacon and pastries.  Mmmm.  I slowly open my eyes, wondering if this is a fantastic dream about spring break again... Uh, I mean... I don't have dreams about spring break....

      "Annie?"

      "Mmm?"  I don't open my eyes.  Someone brushes the stray hairs off my face.  I smile.

     "Annie?  Wake up," Anthony doesn't say.  I slowly blink awake.  Mama's face is less that inches from mine.  For a minute, I'm confused, trying to remember where I am.  There's a soft blanket covering me and I'm still wearing my clothes.  The TV is on; Mary-Anne is sitting near my feet.  "You fell asleep last night... I just let you sleep here.  You looked so comfortable."

  "Thanks, Mama," I mutter, a sudden heavy feeling growing in my chest.  Despite my discouragement, I stay for breakfast, because it's so frickin' delicious.

      Anthony doesn't call until Wednesday.  When he calls he sounds so insanely tired that I keep the conversation short.  He called at two in the morning.  "Anthony!" I exclaim after I was awake enough to realize who it was.  "I haven't heard from you since Wednesday!  What the hell have you been doing?"  He doesn't say much, so I continue, "Why didn't you come home on Saturday?  Janet, Charlie, Tom and I were waiting forever!"

      "Saturday?" he says bleakly.

     "Yeah!  Saturday; a little mini-holiday?" I say.

     "Oh, yeah."

     "Why are you calling so late?" I ask.  "There's no time difference."

     "It's late?  What time is it?"  I tell him the time.  "Oh.  In the morning?"  I roll my eyes before giving him another exasperated answer.  "Oh, shit.  I gotta go, baby.  I'll see you later."