Blue Eyes and Dark Curly Hair

Blue Eyes and Dark Curly Hair
Jonella Allen

Burg is on the phone.

I didn’t mean to answer but the black rotary dial phone was ringing and it hurt my ears so I answered just to make it stop and now I’m stuck because even though I haven’t said anything, not even ‘hello,’ Burg knows it’s me with my snarled hair and snot filled tissues.

He wants me to come over.

I don’t want to go but then I find myself asleep on his couch under a quilt.

Burg is nowhere to be found and the couch isn’t his it’s mine, my orange and green couch and my orange and brown quilt. I fell asleep in the living room and the white cordless phone, the kind with the antenna you have to extend to get any reception, is ringing.

I don’t mean to answer but I do and Burg is on the line and he knows it’s me with my dirty fingernails and a Band-Aid on my shin even though I don’t speak.

He wants me to come over.

I don’t want to go but then I find myself baking cupcakes in his kitchen.

Burg is nowhere to be found and the kitchen isn’t his it’s mine with my yellow daisy wallpaper and glitter specked linoleum. I’m baking cupcakes for my daughter’s birthday and the avocado green phone, the one mounted to the wall, is ringing.

I don’t mean to answer but I do and Burg is on the line and, even though I’m not breathing, he knows it’s me with my pierced nose and blood soaked loafers.

He wants me to come over.

I don’t want to go but then I find myself stuffing the apron in the oven and grabbing my keys.

The hallway stretches away from my apartment, the blue-grey carpet shifting like the tide under my loafers, and the stone steps lead up to the front of Burg’s building. The doorman is missing but the intercom rings and, even though I say nothing, Burg knows that it’s me with my bad breath and torn jeans and he tells me to come in while the extended tone of the nine key cuts him off and the door begins to buzz.

I don’t step forward.

I teeter on the edge.

I leave everything behind as I back down the steps, shuffle along the hall, turn though the kitchen, and sit down on the couch pulling my cell phone from my pocket and begin to dial.

Originally published by Cyclamens and Swords Publishing April 2012.