Joey Kan
Fiction Writing
11.15.2002

Automated message

“Hi this is Cli. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back.”
My hand gripped the phone tighter to my face as I heard these words. My lips were sealed together with some form of super adhesive after the sounds of her softly recorded voice ended. The wait for the all too common ‘beep’ of an answering machine seemed to take forever. During that time I was able to calm myself and think through what type of message I was about to leave. This was very important. If I didn’t have anything good to say it was just as good as not calling.
“My God,” I told myself, “How obvious can you be. Calling a girl because you ‘felt like it’ is the lamest and most no-no thing that you can possibly do. You better hang up, man. Hang up!”

Then the beep. I heard the beep. My time was up. I looked down at the dirty plastic buttons on my telephone, worn down by years of pressing. It didn’t help much in the way of advice. I had to decide at that moment whether or not to hang up. If I hung up that meant that I could call again at a time when maybe she was around to answer the phone as well as saving myself the embarrasment of calling more than one time. (technically speaking) In my previous experiences dealing with the opposite sex I had learned that a girl would get the impression that someone is creepy (or that they should stay away from them) if he calls too much. Creepy. Like stalker creepy. That kind of intensity often scares a girl away.

A while ago I had this little date set up with another girl. Her name was Ivy. We were just going to walk around the stores and do shopping type things. I figured that was the comfortable thing to do because everyone knows how to act like a shopper. I called her up on a Saturday night. I asked her if she was free that Wednesday to do this ‘date’. She sounded pretty enthusiastic about it. Even the way she said “ok” was something highly memorable to me. If a girl says “ok” the right way to me enough times I might just have to fall through the floor. That hasn’t happened yet though so I retain my sanity and good values.

For a couple of days I was in a state of bliss, believing that I would go and meet this girl called Ivy on a Wednesday afternoon and have a great time.
Tuesday night. I got a little anxious from the anticipation and called just to remind her. Nobody answered. Not even after eight or nine rings. After eleven or so my phone cut off leaving me with me the echoing sounds of the busy signal oscillating in unsettling patterns through my mind. It was around 10 pm. I decided to call her again 2 hours later but I received the same results.
At that point in time my Lameness instinct kicked in, preventing me from calling again. “She has caller ID,” it told me, “You gonna have to not call her anymore tonight.” I gave up and retired to my bed.

As soon as I woke up the next morning all I could think about was the date. The date. Frantically throwing combinations of clothes on and eyeing myself in the mirror in preparation. I had enough confidence now to call her again.
Still no answer. “Maybe she’s sick,” I reasoned with myself. I was utterly confused. The only thing that I knew for sure was that if she wasn’t answering then there was no chance of a date happening. We hadn’t even set up a place or time yet.
I called again, waiting and waiting. Somebody picked up this time. I was jumping in my socks.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Is Ivy there?”
“She’s in the shower.”
I began to start lacing up my shoes. She was in the shower. Shower meant getting ready. I waited another ten minutes, then called again.
“Hi. Is Ivy there?”
“Oh, she went out already.”
My body hit the couch like a lump of rocks. If she wasn’t meeting me then where was she going? Why didn’t she tell me she couldn’t come? I freaked out. Lost my shit. Almost every day after that I was calling her (except on Sundays) but she never picked up. Never once talked to me. “This is the story of my life,” I’d say to myself every time my attempts failed. “My life.” And I’d start laughing at myself, looking into the sky or some other similar object.

I decided to leave a message for Cli against my better judgment.
“Hi. It’s me. I was wondering why…” WHY? Why’d I say why?
I was so nervous I couldn’t even talk to a machine properly. Why what? Precious seconds rolled by and the blinking light of my phone laughed at me. “…nevermind. I’ll see ya later.” Down the phone went into its holder, quite violently.
“Idiot.” I said aloud. “Now she knows... she knows…its over.”
I sat with my hands in my face staring at the blank wall in front of me. Why wasn’t there anything on that wall? I hoped that some day I overcame my own laziness and put a poster up or something. It was no use. I felt like a complete tool. Slowly I moved over to my bed. It was a mess of cloth, sheets and laundry. I had a hat mixed up in there somewhere. Shuffling through my pile of bed I retrieved the lost hat and placed it atop my head. My thinking cap would help me think.
I sat there thinking, perhaps too hard. I almost thought myself to store 24 but I wasn’t feeling like a lot of physical movement right then. Nothing had happened. Not even a date or anything. I just made eyes. She made them back sometimes too. I looked at my old phone. “You suck, phone.”

The next day I saw Cli walking down the opposite side of the street towards me. As soon as I saw her swirling locks bobbin’ up and down I knew it was her. I could tell from the way she moved that it was her, even though she had one of those hooded sweatshirts on that covers people’s features. I thought I’d be glad to see her but I froze. There was a stick of ice lancing through my body making me weak. It left me the instant it came but in its place was an overwhelming and numbing sense of self doubt and renewed fear. Being able to move I began walking really fast like I had a purpose, looking forward and pretending that I didn’t see her. I was too embarrassed to talk to her. I wouldn’t know what to say. I’d probably have run away if she stopped me. Damn phone.
“It’s over man. Over. You can’t handle the pressure man. Over.” I repeated while doing quick steps down the street.

It was the truth. The truth that I liked Cli. The truth of that dared me to my face and turned me into a sissy cat, making me afraid of a girl I’d known for three years.

At least the weather was nice that day. Nice, clammy, cold and Rainy. Shit.

nt