Awkward Goodbyes

There is a moment in a phone call, prior to it being answered, when there is a part of you that hopes it isn’t answered because you are not prepared for what to say.  Or even worse, you are not prepared to hear something that is said.

He was in New York City, high up in a hotel in a gray scattered morning that littered rain and smeared the streets.  He let the phone ring its obligatory times and then disconnected when he heard her voicemail.  A minute later she called him back.

               Good morning, he started. 

               It’s 6am she said, voice still full of sleep.  He glanced at his watch, and realized he had forgotten the time zone.  Ah shit, I’m sorry.  Go back to sleep.

               He heard her breathing, imagined her in the dark. No, it’s fine.  What did you want?

What did he want?  He wanted a lot of things.  But mostly he had wanted to merely hear her.  Mostly he wanted to know that if he was far from her, miles from her, that he could at least hear her.  

               Well, he said.  I wanted to thank you for taking me to the airport. Goddamn am I lame.  He was walking around the hotel room, a corner suite upgrade that looked out towards Chelsea.  He could see the Hudson River, the low scud of clouds making the city look like it was in the 1950s, black and white.

               You already thanked me when I dropped you off.  You called me to do it again?

               Yeah.  Yeah, I know.  I guess I needed to tell you again. 

 He heard rustling, imagining her turning in bed, the sheets caught around her.  He imagined the pillow and the scent of her against it.  He was still sweating from the run he had finished.

               I went running this morning.  It was dark and the streets were empty.  It was actually a little eerie…kind of like “I am Legend”…you know that movie with Will Smith.

               That’s the movie where he killed his dog, right?

               Yeah.

               I hated that movie.

He watched the rivulets sliding down the glass of the balcony windows…he was reminded that he had just met her recently, in a rain.  And now he was unable to find the right words.  He realized how much easier it was when she was near him.

               So…yeah, I went running.  It’s raining here.  What’s it doing in Texas?

               There was a pause, and he imagined her maybe getting up to look.

               It’s pitch black.  I can’t see shit.  It’s 6 in the morning and I’m still wondering why you called.

When he was running he kept rewinding the tape in his mind.  He kept going back to the part of the departure and he remembered he couldn’t remember all the details.

               Why did you kiss me goodbye he finally summoned.

               He heard her breathing sort of exhale.  It was like an annoyance.  He was starting to get cold as the damp shirt clung to him.  He felt a little bit like he had opened a hallway and there were a thousand shut doors.  And he had randomly chosen this one to suddenly kick in.

               What? She finally countered.

               Why did you kiss me goodbye?  I mean, why did you kiss me…on the cheek?

He didn’t hear anything.  So he asked, you still there?

               Because it’s the fucking social convention.  Because the way you were sitting it was hard for me to kiss you anywhere else.  How about because I don’t really know you and because I felt like it was the right thing to do…otherwise I could’ve shaken your hand.

               He had his forehead pressed against the great plane of glass, he could almost feel the heartbeats of rain against it.  He had merely wanted to talk to her, he had really just wanted to hear her speak.  He would have been fine if she had put the phone down and just let him listen to her, breathing, sleeping…anything.

               When I was running, it was like I couldn’t get tired.  It was like I felt like I could run all the way to where you were.  It was kind of scary, actually.  The faster I ran the faster I wanted to run…and I felt like I couldn’t get to you fast enough. I felt like I was 15…a kid, sprinting down the streets. It’s like that line in that Al Green song…you know, where he says cause you make me feel so brand new.  I just felt like…

He stopped, realizing he was adrift.  He actually tapped the phone against his head.  He wanted to hang up and start over.  The silence grew.  It was like they were speaking via telegrams…spurts of words then time and space between them.

               I kissed you on the cheek because that is how you say goodbye to somebody. 

               How do you kiss somebody hello then?

Again, the pause.  Again, the empty room.

               You kiss them the same way.  He heard the phone click and she was gone.

He showered and the rain didn’t stop coming.  If anything it got worse.  And there is no worse city than New York in the rain…there are no cabs, umbrellas crowd and spill on you and streets fill up and cascade over shoes and generally turn everything into a damp mass of wool and sweat.

His flight didn’t leave for another 4 hours but he already wanted to start getting away.  He already wanted to be moving slightly towards her direction.  He motioned to the valet to signal him a cab and when one finally arrived he got in and told him to head to LaGuardia.

He made his way through security, drudging along with his wet shoes and damp hair. 

He found his way to the departure gate, dutifully waiting for his turn in the line spilling out the doorway towards the plane.  

He had a middle seat.

He was getting ready to turn off his phone as the steward hovered nearby, admonishing the passengers to turn off electronic devices.

He saw the text just as the man came over to gently remind him again to turn it off.

 

That was not our first kiss.  You will know when that happens.

He turned off his phone.