Tuesday, January 5, 2016


I asked that little voice in my head if I should phone Lawrence, now that he’s scheduled to be home from Victoria’s parents’ retreat. The voice said I should be sensitive to the “flow.”

When I asked again, it said, “Sure! Why not?”

“Why not?” I responded. “Because you told me to be sensitive to the flow!”

“Do you feel any flow?”


“Well, if you’re going to be this neurotic about it, just phone him!”

The little voice also said that Kennedy would answer when I called…

But I’m getting ahead of myself, here.

I sat on Mrs. Greenwood’s bed (I was babysitting the twins) for an hour, asking myself who I could call to take my mind off the anxiety of wanting to speak with Lawrence and knowing I shouldn’t call his house.

Who could I call? Christie? I didn’t remember her number.

Aunt Bay? Already phoned—she’s not home.

Leslie? Nothing to say to my sister.

Grandma? No, at 7:30 she’d be watching Jeopardy.

My stomach got fluttery, my hands started to shake, I became congested, I had to pee every three minutes… in a word, I was nervous.

Why should I be? Knowing my luck, he wouldn’t be home, anyway. So, why call?

Why not?

Besides, I know everyone who could possibly answer. If it was Kennedy or Bess, I’d ask for their father. If it was Victoria, I’d ask for Lawrence. Didn’t get a chance to rehearse that. I was afraid I’d end up sounding like that nymph from Ally McBeal—you know the one, Ally’s secretary with the curly blonde locks.

Picking up the phone and just listening to the dial tone—that, I remember. Dialling was an out-of-body experience, even though I’d rehearsed many times:




I was an expert at dialling, and yet I couldn’t truly believe I had done it.

Kennedy picked up the phone, of course.


“Hi (I think I said hi. I wasn’t paying too much attention to that.) Is Lawrence in, please?”



(pause) (grrr…) (deep breath)


“Is Lawrence in?” (no please)

“Oh, no… (in a terribly sympathetic tone…) he’s not home right now.” There may even have been an “I’m sorry” in there somewhere.


“Could you tell him Giselle called?”

“Oh, O.K., sure!” (in a surprisingly joyful, dare I say Loving tone)



What a rush.

Oh no! Damage control!

“Leslie… is mum home?”


“Could you try answering the phone tonight, and if any men call don’t tell mum.”

“What? Oh no, she just came in the door!”

“O.K… You have your orders. Bye.”


Ah, the waiting game.


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