"Maybe there really are only 5 important calls in any one's life." she thought as she stood int he phone booth on 42nd Street, her quarter poised to drop. "Do I want to use this call now???"
Ugh. I pushed my bangs out of my eyes (note to self- I need a hair cut). This is crap! Why five? Why not two? What's the magic here?
5 calls. No more, no less. I let my brain run before my fingers on the keyboard. Five. Five members in my family. Five pets at one time. I've owned (or been owned by) five dogs - Lady, Boeuf, Doobie, Abu and Orie; and five cats - Mim, Puck, Griffen, Woodie, Pipen and Z - wait that's six....
How many important calls have I made?
1. To Mark - He's my therapist; the one who held me together when my life fell apart.
2. To my sister telling her to come home four days before Mom died.
Okay, those are the calls I've made. What about ones I've received?
1. The one from Rose telling me I had the curator job at the Governor's Mansion. I still remember that one although it's been 20 + years.
2. The call where Rose called in well - I can't come in because I feel too good - Because it was funny / not important in the scheme of things.
3. The one where Andie called about my first geek job....
Really though, I thought, most important things come by mail or in person.
I looked at the monitor. Crap, I thought, how was I going to get Juliet out of this phone booth? How was I going to rationalize...or rather how was SHE going to rationalize calling Dirk back? She had wanted to be on her own. Is she going back like a whipped puppy? Is she going back home? Is she joyful? Or is she calling to say neener neener I told you I'd be successful??
I didn't know. More importantly Juliet wasn't talking. She stood there in the phone booth - quarter poised at the slot. One hand holding the quarter and the other holding her purse, the phone receiver cradled between her shoulder and ear - nested in her wiry brown curls. She was wearing a brown suit with a tight pencil skirt. Brown. This whole thing felt ...... Brown.