The Boy from the Band

Waiting--and Waiting

It had been a week and I still hadn't heard from him. When I came into work Gina gave me her "so what happened?" look. "Well?" she demanded, and I shook my head.

"No, nothing, not a peep. I told you, he's not going to call." It was true I had spent the day almost staring at the phone, jumping when it rang only to find out it was my mother and a telemarketer. "He asked for my number just to be a jerk."

"You don't know that. Didn't you tell me he lives with his girlfriend? And for god's sake, he's a musician. You attracted the cutest guy in his band and you're moping because he didn't call you right away?"

"Shut up." I wanted to tell her, but I shrugged my shoulders instead. I was having my doubts, I'd had my doubts from the start, but he'd gotten my hopes up and I hated feeling disappointed.

The days stretched on and he still hadn't called, then it was almost two weeks. When Gina would ask me if I'd heard from him, I would shake my head. These days I was on the verge of tears. "You should have known better," I told myself severely, "He's way above you," though I knew that wasn't true.

I've learned that if you don't hear from someone for two weeks it means he's not going to call. Two weeks mean he's not really interested--so does that mean I was just a convenient fuck?

Damn, I told him I didn't want to give him my number if he wasn't going to call me. It would have been okay if he didn't want to call me, maybe a little disappointing but I enjoyed making love to him in the dunes under the stars. Some things are not meant to happen, you just have to take them for what they are.

Gina decided to cheer me up and come over after we got off work. We'd have a couple of drinks and smoke a couple of joints. It sounded good and who could not love a best friend who'll see you through a rough time with a guy?

"This is what you need," she said as she poured me a generous portion of scotch. "Johnny Walker Black and some excellent Thai stick. If I get too fucked up to drive home, I'll just crash on your couch."

It was one a.m., and we were halfway through our first joint when the phone rang. She looked at me, "Answer it, you fool, it's him, you know it is." She pushed me towards the phone.

I glared at her then answered it on the second ring. "Hello," I said, my voice sounded uncertain but I couldn't help it.

"Hi babe," a male voice said and there was no mistaking who it was, "How are you doing?"

I took a breath, "I'd almost," no I had, "given up on you, it's been two weeks."

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry. We've been busy working on the new album. I haven't even been home much."

I wanted to say, "that's all right," but it wasn't. Instead, for maybe the first time in my life I said what I was really thinking, "Couldn't you just have called to let me know you were thinking about me?" Behind me, Gina was applauding.

"Okay, from now on I will—just remember I'll do it when I have the chance. Now, can I come over and see you?"

"Well, yes you can, my friend Gina's over here—the cute blond, remember?"

She grabbed the phone from my hand, "Gina's going to be leaving, she'll stay here long enough to meet you, then she's going."

I took the phone back. "Yes, please, come over. I'd like that. I don't have to work tomorrow so I can sleep in if you stay late."

I gave him directions on how to get from Malibu to Venice. It's not hard really, I can find my way home even when I'm sort of fucked up.

Gina sat and held my hand while we waited. "What did I tell you? He called, didn't he? If you're going to get involved with a guy with a girlfriend, especially if he's a musician, there'll be days like this. You may not ever marry him or have him to yourself, but I think he's here to stay."