Nine Minutes and Forty-Six Seconds

Sunday, February 23rd, 2003, 2:14 P.M.

An unknown location in Florida, U.S.A.

            “Hi! You've reached the Suicide Hotline. Thank you for calling – how may I assist you today?”

            “You can try to assist me if you want, but I just want to talk.”

            “Do you have any thoughts of harming yourself?”

            “No – none of that. Never.”

            “Then why are you –”

            “Shut up and listen to me. Please, that's all I ask. Nobody's done that for me in a very long time.”

            “I'm sorry, sir. But please, don't be hostile. That won't help.”

            “I'm not looking for help, miss. I'm just looking for somebody to talk with. Please, don't take that away from me.”

            “What do you want to talk about?”

            “Well hey – not so fast, you know? Let's build it up. I'd kind of like to get to know you first before I start spilling my life out. It'd make it easier for me.”

            “Well, I guess I'm here to help you, sir.”

            “What's your name?”

            “Julia. And yours?”

            “Robert Robertson, but most people just call me Bird. Julia, huh? That's a pretty name. I made a list of names a few years back just in case I ever had a daughter. Julia's somewhere near the top, I think.”

            “Did you have a son instead?”

            “No. I'm thirty-one and I've never had sex. Never kissed. Never even held a fucking girl's hand for Christ's sake.”

            “I'm sorry Robert, you seem like a really nice guy and I'm sure that there are plenty of girls out there for you.”

            “Call me Bird, please.”

            “Okay.”

            “How old are you, Julia?”

            “Twenty-three.”

            “Married?”

            “No.”

            “Why not?”

            “Well, my boyfriend and I sort of broke up recently. I loved him, and we had talked about getting married, and I believed him; but then I found him cheating. I guess some things just aren't meant to be.”

            “I'm sorry to hear that, Julia. I can be your boyfriend.”

            “Is this a prank?”

            “No. Why would it be? You just said yourself that I'm a really nice guy.”

            “You do seem like a nice guy, Bird, but I can't just start dating a guy that I've only talked to for a few minutes over the phone. I'm sorry, but I don't even know what you look like.”

            “So then you're shallow.”

            “What? No, I –”