The Lonely Hearts Club [On Hold]

Chapter Six: Anytime At All

Chapter 6

Anytime At All

   Out of all the TV channels that came with our slightly-more-than-basic cable package, I found it both surprising and disappointing that the only programs worth watching on Friday night were wrestling, poker, reruns of House M.D.  and BBC’s Sherlock, and Ocean’s Eleven. Jesse and I, after a few minutes of arguing the matter, decided on the latter. Neither of us cared for wrestling or poker much anyways, and I didn’t want to have to choose between my two favourite Sherlock Holmes TV adaptations. Besides, I’ve always wanted to learn how to rob a bank—no, not because I was planning to. Just out of curiosity.

   When I first moved in with Jesse, I was convinced that weekends would be spent at bars or clubs, just two bachelors on the hunt for a bit of fun. How terribly wrong I was. Although I was having a good time, this wasn’t what my nineteen-year-old self had in mind. Then again, I never imagined I’d be in a coma, be asked for a favour by Eros—who was an actual living, breathing deity that pissed me off every chance he got—and still didn’t own every Beatles album.

   Jesse and I weren’t paying much attention to the actual movie as we made up our own dialogue and commentary that made less and less sense with each passing scene. Even though I was pretty close to throwing a fit when it happened, now I found that I was alright with Jesse accidentally spoiling what happens at the end because I was half-asleep before George Clooney and the others were finished outlining their scheme.

   I must’ve nodded off because the next thing I knew, it was pitch-black outside and some British zombie flick was now playing on TV. Casting a sidelong glance at Jesse, I saw he was snoring soundly, an arm and a leg dangling over the side of the couch so precariously I was worried he’d topple to the ground any second. Thankfully he didn’t.

   The screen illuminated the living room just enough for me to locate the phone sitting on the coffee table. It wasn’t mine; Jesse must’ve left it there. Apparently it was a little past midnight already. Before I had the chance to head to my bedroom, the phone displayed a number that Jesse hadn’t registered in his contacts and gave out a shrill ring.

   I wasn’t sure if it was just me, but I didn’t usually get calls at all unless it was Mom asking how her favourite son was doing (I was her only son, only child actually, so by default I had to be her favourite) but those calls stopped coming after she passed away. Then there was Liam, Courtney, and Jack, but if they had something important to tell me, they’d usually just bring it up during bowling practice.

   It could’ve been one of Jesse’s one-night stands, but I don’t remember the last time he brought someone home. And it was much too late for telemarketers. They were annoying, but the one thing I liked about them was they never bothered you after eight.

   I had approximately half a second to answer now or let it ring again and wake Jesse up with his stupid, loud-as-a-megaphone ringtone. I quickly pressed the ‘talk’ button and held it up to my ear. “You’ve reached Jesse’s phone, leave a message. Beeeeeep.” My impersonation of an answering machine was entirely unconvincing, even to me. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact I was whispering.

   “Caleb?” Jesse and Grace—who turned out to be the voice on the other end of the line—chorused; Jesse groggily, and Grace a bit surprised. Expected, since this was Jesse’s phone. Choosing to ignore my roommate’s subsequent sentence, which took me a moment to decipher with his face smushed into the couch cushion like that (“Shuddup. ‘M sleepin’.”), I focused on Grace’s.

   “Caleb, is that you? Sorry, did I wake you? Where’s—“

   “Yeah, it’s me. And no, no, you didn’t wake me,” I assured, biting down on my tongue to suppress the urge to yawn. Beside me, Jesse nudged me in the ribs with his foot in an attempt to get me to quiet down. He was wearing that stupid boot. I pushed his foot off the couch and it dangled over the edge. I wasn’t sure how he hadn’t fallen to the floor yet; his position seemed like it should be against the laws of physics.