JК
Darkly dreaming Dexter :: Lindsay Jeffry P.
Страница: 73 из 160I was in a state of Zen readiness, prepared for any surprise.
Or so I thought.
I had just returned to my apartment, leaned back in my chair, and relaxed, when the phone rang. I let it ring. I wanted to breathe for a few minutes, and I could think of nothing that couldn't wait. Besides, I had paid almost $50 for an answering machine. Let it earn its keep.
Two rings. I closed my eyes. Breathed in. Relax, old boy. Three rings. Breathe out. The answering machine clicked and my wonderfully urbane message began to play.
“Hello, I'm not in right now, but I'll get back to you right away if you'll please leave a message, after the beep. Thank you.”
What fabulous vocal tone. What acid wit! A truly great message altogether. It sounded nearly human. I was very proud. I breathed in again, listening to the melodic BEEEEP! that followed.
“Hi, it's me.”
A female voice. Not Deborah. I felt one eyelid twitch in irritation. Why do so many people start their messages with “It's me”? Of course it is you. We all know that. But who the hell ARE you? In my case the choices were rather limited. I knew it wasn't Deborah. It didn't sound like LaGuerta, although anything was possible. So that left-
Rita?
“Um, I'm sorry, I-” A long breath sighing out. “Listen, Dexter, I'm sorry. I thought you would call me and then when you didn't I just-” Another long breath out. “Anyway. I need to talk. Because I realized… I mean-oh hell. Could you, um, call me? If-you know.”
I didn't know. Not at all. I wasn't even sure who it was. Could that really be Rita?
Another long sigh. “I'm sorry if-” And a very long pause. Two full breaths. In deeply, out. In deeply, then blown out abruptly. “Please call me, Dexter. Just-” A long pause. Another sigh. Then she hung up.
Many times in my life I have felt like I was missing something, some essential piece of the puzzle that everybody else carried around with them without thinking about it. I don't usually mind, since most of those times it turns out to be an astonishingly stupid piece of humania like understanding the infield fly rule or not going all the way on the first date.
But at other times I feel like I am missing out on a great reservoir of warm wisdom, the lore of some sense I don't possess that humans feel so deeply they don't need to talk about it and can't even put it into words.
This was one of those times.
Or so I thought.
I had just returned to my apartment, leaned back in my chair, and relaxed, when the phone rang. I let it ring. I wanted to breathe for a few minutes, and I could think of nothing that couldn't wait. Besides, I had paid almost $50 for an answering machine. Let it earn its keep.
Two rings. I closed my eyes. Breathed in. Relax, old boy. Three rings. Breathe out. The answering machine clicked and my wonderfully urbane message began to play.
“Hello, I'm not in right now, but I'll get back to you right away if you'll please leave a message, after the beep. Thank you.”
What fabulous vocal tone. What acid wit! A truly great message altogether. It sounded nearly human. I was very proud. I breathed in again, listening to the melodic BEEEEP! that followed.
“Hi, it's me.”
A female voice. Not Deborah. I felt one eyelid twitch in irritation. Why do so many people start their messages with “It's me”? Of course it is you. We all know that. But who the hell ARE you? In my case the choices were rather limited. I knew it wasn't Deborah. It didn't sound like LaGuerta, although anything was possible. So that left-
Rita?
“Um, I'm sorry, I-” A long breath sighing out. “Listen, Dexter, I'm sorry. I thought you would call me and then when you didn't I just-” Another long breath out. “Anyway. I need to talk. Because I realized… I mean-oh hell. Could you, um, call me? If-you know.”
I didn't know. Not at all. I wasn't even sure who it was. Could that really be Rita?
Another long sigh. “I'm sorry if-” And a very long pause. Two full breaths. In deeply, out. In deeply, then blown out abruptly. “Please call me, Dexter. Just-” A long pause. Another sigh. Then she hung up.
Many times in my life I have felt like I was missing something, some essential piece of the puzzle that everybody else carried around with them without thinking about it. I don't usually mind, since most of those times it turns out to be an astonishingly stupid piece of humania like understanding the infield fly rule or not going all the way on the first date.
But at other times I feel like I am missing out on a great reservoir of warm wisdom, the lore of some sense I don't possess that humans feel so deeply they don't need to talk about it and can't even put it into words.
This was one of those times.