I wake up to a shrill noise, and realize that it's my cellphone,
whose ringtone I have neglected to program because
I'm awaiting its replacement in the mail. A number's listed,
I don't have it saved in my address book. I hesitate, but only
to ask myself, "really, who else could it be?
It's 4 in the morning."
"Hello?"
"...is this Taina?" Nobody else says my name that way.
"Why didn't you tell me this was your US number?"
I stumble around in the dark, and head downstairs,
out into the crisp cool air. The sky is
so so blue, a deep dark velvet.
You're extra sweet when you're drunk. It allows me, too,
to be extra vulnerable and ask "so why can't you
come see me this weekend?"and of course, it's work, I already
know the answer, but then I get to hear "Believe me, I want
nothing more than to drop everything, and go to you now."
You're walking home, of course. You always walk
when you're drunk - "why would I take a cab
when I can talk to you this way?"
At some point, I accidentally hang up on you
with my ear, and I call you back quickly
to get a "hello Massachusetts".
I head back in, giggling and whispering, because I'm getting cold.
"Do you tip in Boston?"
"Of course I do. You have to. I don't have to tip at home though."
"Do you tip based on service or their attractiveness?"
"...I tip everyone the same."
"Would you tip me if I served you? Would you also
leave your number? Cause I would definitely call you."
Kid...you're a drunkard and a slut.
You told me about getting bottle service at the bar, again,
pausing to say the name of the place in French
(okay, I still get sort of swoony when you do this),
and tell me about the vegetarian sushi/dim sum place you went to for dinner.
"ugh that sounds perfect."
"I'm going to take you out to dinner. All you
have to do is say the word."
"What is the word, exactly? I always feel
weird about that phrase."
"The word is... Alex, I want to eat Moroccan food.
Alex, I want to eat Japanese food.
Alex, I want to eat Indian food..."
You went off on this tangent for a bit.
"Taina, you're nice."
"Nice? Nice is boring."
"No, nice...as in, I would want to hang out with you.
I could have you in my bed -" my mouth gaped open involuntarily
"- and we could just be watching tv and it'll be fine, you know?"
A little liquor helps pave the way to romance, right?
I can't remember what you said, but I scoffed
and you asked, a bit anxious, "what, you regret meeting me?"
"No. No, I'm really happy I met you."
"That's good, because so am I."
You were mumbling now, getting softer and softer.
You promised to call me right back, but I
knew better, and texted you goodnight.
I need to see you soon.
4am calls were okay when I was
in a time zone that was exactly 12 hours different.
Now it just makes me feel alone and sad
when I have to go back to sleep after we hang up.
Say goodnight, sleep alone.
