| now is | once was | came from | heard tell |

1:55 p.m. - 2005-02-22

Phone Home

Last night was phone-home night with my new phone card. I didn’t warn anyone to expect a call so the surprise in voices was gratifying. So strange to hear voices I haven’t heard in a month answer the phone so casually: “Hi, this is…” “Oh, yeah, hi- it’s Pink”, “AAHHH OHMIGOD!”. Unfortunately most of my friends have mobile phones rather than landlines, which makes the international call costs about ten times higher (I’m not exaggerating). It was worth it, but I think in future I shall have to warn people to be near a fixed phone line before I call.

My parent’s phone number is disconnected. This happens periodically but it seems strange to me. How is that I, as the financially irresponsible student-child, can manage to keep my phone line permanently connected but my parents, middle-aged high-income earning home-owners, have theirs disconnected every few months? So no family updates, which is what I was really craving.

I called my boys. Young bartender boy first, he sounded like he was going to drop the phone when he figured out it was me. Sweet thing. His expectation that I would leave his life as suddenly and completely as I entered it makes me perversely determined to stick around. Talking to him for even a little bit makes me taste that trashy Sydney affair we had on the very tip of my tongue. I want to swallow it back down. I haven’t had enough.

And then the boy-dyke, the one who has been in my life far longer and with far more associated trauma. As soon as he figured out it was me he launched into a thousand explanations as to why he hadn’t emailed me or attempted to contact me at all. Talking to him I could feel my mind reeling backwards into that state of dependence, the constant readjustments I forced myself to take on in order to qualify for just a little more of his attention. Yuck. He spent most of the phone conversation bragging about his new job, and talking about all the friends of mine that have hit on him since I left the country. Surprisingly satisfying to have my prejudices confirmed for me. I think I have had more than my fill of that spoilt and arrogant creature. Enough.

Best of all was speaking to my gay boy. I miss him the most. I miss the way we pick up the beat of conversation from each other. We slipped straight back into it, narrating the past month of our lives to each other in perfect rhythm. I wish I’d gotten to speak to him for longer.

- |+

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