Like Dizzy Gillespie's Cheeks

Fifty

Christmas was almost over when the phone rang. I got up from the comfort of my overstuffed Crate & Barrel chair and matching ottoman, groggy with fatigue. Jerry Springer looked like shit on my twenty-seven-inch Mitsubishi, with almost twelve hours gone, and twelve to go, as he pleaded for more and more money on what was nothing more than the Jerry Springer telethon. No mention of what it was for or why he was raising money. There was no sign of my new friend, Miss Illinois, but I did see my favorite shift captain working the phones in the background.

The late night phone ring made my nerves jump as well as my stomach. I picked it up and noticed there was a message on my machine. Ignoring the message, I walked back to the chair, plopped down, and said, "Hello."

"Sam, it's Kate. Is it too late?" she said in a hushed tone.

"It depends on what you're referring to."

"I'm convinced you're incapable of answering a simple question with a simple answer."

"Merry Christmas." I changed the subject like usual.

"Merry Christmas," she said begrudgingly.

"How's your mom?"

"Sleeping."

"How are you?"

After a pause, she said, "Lonely."

That uncomfortable feeling of intimacy hit me again. "Well ... you'll be back soon?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess. How are you, Sam? How was your Christmas party? What happened with the telethon?"

"I'm tired. The Christmas party was strange. And the telethon ... was a disaster."

"That's too bad. Do you want to talk about any of it?"

I didn't have the energy to relive the day. "It's too much to talk about right now. Why don't I save it until I see you again."

"When will that be?" The ball was in my court.

"You tell me." The ball was in her court.

The hum of the phone line droned in my ear with apprehension.

"Um, OK. I'm driving back after breakfast tomorrow, but I'll need to catch up on some work in the afternoon. How about tomorrow evening?"

"That's fine. The only thing is I'm playing at Andy's."

"Oh ..."

"We can have dinner or a late-night drink, or you can come over with the lure of opening Ben's trunk again ... or all of the above."

"You still haven't opened that friggin' thing?"

"I haven't had time."

"Yeah, right."

"Why don't you call me when you figure out what you want to do?"

"All right. So, Sam, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," I said with caution.

"Did you finish that song you played for me the other night, 'Somewhere Before'?"

I felt like I'd been caught with my pants down. Why was she doing this to me?

"No, I haven't. Why?"

"No reason."

No reason, my ass.