Like Dizzy Gillespie's Cheeks

Thirty-six

Hearing from Max, Liz, and even Kate wasn't as big of a surprise as hearing from Helena Storm. But once I got home from the Nordstrom gig, my answering machine was filled with a variety of messages.

Max wanted to know if I got anywhere with Kate. Liz wanted to know if I had Kate's number at home or her parents, where she was spending the week. Kate wanted to know if I'd simply call her at her parents, number included. And Helena called to tell me she knew why my name sounded familiar.

Guilt is a huge motivator. So based on that premise, I called Liz back first. She was home.

"Hey, it's Sam."

"I know who it is. How come it took you so long to call me back? I could be dying, you know."

Liz really had a way of either saying the wrong thing, or saying the right thing and just having it come out of her mouth wrong. I wasn't sure which was the case at the moment, but there was nothing about her that helped me feel for her. Nonetheless, I was civil.

"I'm sorry about not calling you sooner, I just got back from that thing at Nordstrom. And I'm sorry about last night, as well."

"Last night was fine. I expect nothing less from you. You were the one who always said, 'Expect nothing, and be disappointed in nothing.' Or something like that, right?"

"Something like that."

"Really, the only reason I'm calling, believe it or not, is to get Kate's number if you have it."

"Well, you're in luck. She just left it on my machine. Let me see ... here ... 517-233-9022, which is her parents' number. And her home number is ... 312-388-2525 ... what time did you guys leave last night?"

"We left your place around 4:30, and decided to get some breakfast. So we went to St. Moritz, and I had a Belgian waffle and started feeling a lot better if you care to know. Not 100 percent, but better. So then I took Kate to the airport, which was a fucking mess, as usual, and then had my doctor's appointment."

"And, how did it go?"

"Do you really care?"

"Please, Liz. Let's cut the shit and assume when I ask you a question, I'm interested in hearing the answer." In my typical hypocritical fashion, I turned on the TV. A hedgehog was making a beeline for a garden slug. Luckily for the slug, it had a shell, and the hedgehog wasn't smart enough to knock the shell over with its pointy little snout and have the slug for an hors d'oeuvre.

"It's looks like I may have a simple virus. I hear tomorrow specifically about the blood test results. But he doesn't think I should be worried about the Listeria monocytogenes bacteria."

"So, that's pretty great. You must be relived."

"Yeah, I'm relieved, and thankful ... for several things."

"Like what?"

"That I got to know Kate. She's a pretty amazing woman. What she's gone through to get where she is and all ... don't you agree?"

Women are so in love with each other. And they're able to tell each other so much in such a short amount of time. I had no idea what the hell Liz was talking about. Apparently I don't know Kate that well. Apparently, I don't know Kate at all. All I know about her is that she doesn't know much about music, and she's a very persistent writer.

"Pretty amazing ..."

"You should be honored she's trying to get this story about Ben."

The hedgehog and his family have all crammed their way into a space the size of a small shoebox after a night of cavorting and eating things that we would only turn our noses up to (except maybe the delicacy of a garden slug).