So, I’m switching things up a bit. Instead of my customary essays, four-cent musings, etc., from time to time, I will share one of my fiction stories. The following is one of those pieces that will be shared in two parts. Here is part one of a story that I call, “Hello Betty.”
It was a huge misunderstanding. Things got heated and nothing was resolved despite the boiling blood pressures of both sides. She was right. I was avoiding the question. I was trying to end it…the phone conversation at least. Well, in that moment…I felt like I was being attacked, provoked and interrogated at the same time. She kept going. It seemed as if she was capable of continuing her rant for hours. I don’t recall her taking a breath not even once as she continued volleying threats veiled as options, and ultimatums disguised as decisions. I just needed an out or a reprieve. She is the only person in the world that confuses me. She is the only person in the world who causes me to choke on my words mid-conversation. I literally mentally stall like an old jalopy on a highway during rush hour. She scrambles my brain by invoking thoughts which causes me to feel. What the f%*K is this feeling ish?
Our conversation wasn’t going well at all because Betty thought that I was avoiding her questions, and not acknowledging how she felt. So, I decided to text her. I know she thinks that it’s a lazy form of communication. I just want her to know that I’m not done with us.
I’m ready to explain myself to her satisfaction and do whatever it takes. I could let go of what we have built so far, but I don’t want to. I’ve called her multiple times and she hasn’t responded. Maybe it’s too late.