Drunk Dialing

You call me intoxicated from a bar in La-la land.  "It's not really working."  It's almost 4 a.m. my time, and I'll be up in an hour.  "OK, OK," I say, "Hold on."  I stumble into the kitchen and open the fridge; my eyes adjust to the light emanating from the 40-watt appliance bulb.  I pop open a diet energy drink. The citric acid-caffeine combo makes me gag almost as much as the conversation that we're going to have.

I'll have it with you anyway because that's what friends do--they listen.  Even if they know the content will be noxious.

I stick a straw in the drink so I can tolerate it better by small sips and pull a kitchen chair out.  This is a kitchen conversation.  I decide to sit in the dark because I don't really want to wake the cats up.  Well, it's not cats as much as I don't feel like dealing with rambunctious Eliot before I've really woken up. He loves early mornings almost as much as he loves lapping water that trickles from the tub's faucet.  I don't want my toes bitten.

Brr, I think to myself; I wish I didn't have to set the thermostat so low to conserve heat.  I mumble something about skyrocketing natural gas prices as I sit cross-legged on the kitchen chair to keep my sockless feet warm.

You slur your words as you present a litany of her shortcomings.

I say very little, for what can I say?  

I don't want to be the woman waiting for people to get divorced to enlarge the dating pool.  I don't want to be the fall-back girl, the shoulder to cry on, the one your finger drunkenly dials when you're separated.   I don't want to be the understudy waiting in the wings for the lead actress to flub her role as she is doing. I don't want to be that person--the rebound.

Oh, I've been that person.   It took quite a few years to get over that broken heart.  I like to think I've learned a few things along the way.

So, I listen. I tell you that you need to work harder to salvage things.  I give you my best bleary-eyed support.  I tell you to promise me that you'll call a cab.  I gently place the phone back on the cradle and realize it's time to brew the coffee.