this is a story i wrote a year or so ago. not completely real, not completely false either.




          Its ringing.. come on damnit, I know you're there..

     I excuse myself from the din of the room and step into the hallway, phone pressed to my ear, still ringing. Then it stops.

     "Hey, you've reached Hannah. Or actually, you haven't. I'm too busy doing something else. Leave me a message and if I don't hate you I'll give you a call back."

     I snap the phone closed and slide it into my pocket. Feeling a little lost I wander aimlessly down the corridor until I reach a balcony overlooking the entrance. This place is pretty swanky, with glass elevators, a decorative fountain, and couches cluttered around the lobby which all look to expensive to actually sit on. After three months of sleeping in parking lots I can't help but feel like I don't belong here. As if any moment security will find me and escort me out, muscled hands clamped over my bony shoulders. Heading back the way I came I pass a mirror and see my reflection for the first time in days. Living on the road has done a number on me, awkward sleep and gas station food shifting the weight of my body. I find a twist in the hallway overlooking the street through floor to ceiling windows and pause to take in the view.

   I think back on the last time I saw her. A Bottle of cheap wine between the two of us, we layed on her bed and talked about everything. About Europe and the rest of this country, about what pulled us away and what always brought us home again. And then we kissed. My phone rings.

"Hey"

     "Hey," she says, "sorry, I was in the shower"

"I had one of those this morning" I slump down against the wall, with my knees to my chest.

     "oh yeah? How long's it been since the last one, a month?"

     "a few days.. maybe a week.. not sure. What's up?"

     "not a lot. Hey, I can't talk too long, I've gotta go to work in an hour. Where are you?"

     "Memphis" I scan the horizon but its nothing but dull gray buildings poking jagged from faded green trees. I miss the west coast for reasons I never expected. The flat dry lands of the center states choke me.

     "Memphis, Tennessee?"

     "is there another Memphis?"

     "could be, dick." I know she's smiling.

     "sorry. Anyways, yeah. Eric's mom got us a hotel for his birthday. Its real fancy and I keep getting strange looks from wealthy old people. I guess I do kind of look like a bum…" As the words come out of my mouth I see a woman in a white robe with pink flowers and matted gray hair pushing a shopping cart down the sidewalk. A bag of aluminum cans falls out and she stoops to pick it up, then places it back with the others. She stops to talk to a well dressed man at the bus stop. After a few seconds he pats his pockets and shrugs and the woman continues on her way.

     "have you shaved yet?"

     "no" I scratch my beard, as if from pride. I guess I am proud of it. My most manly of traits.
     "if you don't shave by the next time I see you I'm not gonna make out with you. You know that, right?"

     "that's fair"

     "when is next time?" she asks, and I can hear her bracing for an unfavorable answer.

     "were still not sure. We haven't heard anything past the 29th. And that's in Florida." This is a sore subject for both of us.

     "tell your manager I said you had to come home," the edges of her words go soft and a lighter flicks, "tell him I said so."

     "ill get right on that."

     The cherry crackles and I hear her pull the cigarette from her lips like a cork, puh.

     A maid walks by tugging a cart behind her loaded with carpet cleaners and clean towels. Her smile reveals crooked teeth but she's sincere and I like her immediately. "so where were you last night" Hannah asks. The maid ducks into the room behind me.

     "Arkansas"

     "Little Rock?"

     "no, some little town about an hour west of there. I forget the name already."

     "how was the show?"

     "not too bad, about 200 kids. I think most of them were there for one of the local bands. Goth rock. Can you imagine that? Goth rockers from Arkansas. Ridiculous" I say, and chuckle at the thought for maybe the fifth time.

     crackle, puh. "make any money?"

     "75 dollars, enough for gas and food.."

     "that's shitty" she tells me, as if I haven't come to the same conclusion.

     "yeah." My left hand picks at the carpet, plastic thread so thin it pretends to be soft. The kind of carpet that only comes in blue and green, this one is blue.

     "well I should probably be going. I have to leave for work pretty soon and I still haven't bru-"

     "I miss you, fuck I miss you."

     "I miss you too," she almost whispers the words.

     "this sucks. I hate this"

     "so come home"

     "I cant"

     crackle, puh. "why not?"

     "I just cant"

     "youre obviously not getting rich and famous, just poor and miserable, and unhealthy, you sound like shit. Tell your manager you want to go home."

     "its not up to him. the label decides when we tour and when we don't.

     "fuck them"

     "it doesn't work that way."

     crackle, puh. "whatever. I hate this." She says.

     "me too.."

     "I have to go now. I miss you."

     "I love you.." click. I feel like I might throw up. Staring out over the bleak city I struggle to remember why this was a good idea to start with.

       Now they have Foosball. Two months ago it was a fancy flat panel TV, but its more or less agreed that the screen itself is an inch or two smaller than the old one. Management has to do things like that on a regular basis to hold the employee's attention. So easily distracted by hormones and nice weather, they turn their backs on the customer. Three out of five working the late shift tonight, they dont take pride in their jobs anymore. These kids not even that much younger than himself. Thats what you get hiring so many people in a place like this. Poverty level suburban backlash to a city which prides itself on green technology and bike paths.
       His stomach reminds him why he came and surveys his choices. Four snack machines and two Soda machines. No juice. The only thing in there you could really call healthy is raw carrots with a cup of ranch or a bag of sunchips. The rest just sugar and fat with different names and flavors. He gets some cheese crunchies, a bag of m&ms, and two 'large' coffees which he pours into his thermos, nearly filling it. probably alright if you dont make a habit of it.
       Three minutes left of break, followed by another hour of calls. Everything after that is mindless. Water might be a good idea.
       He Twists until he hears the familiar crack. Plucking two half-formed cubes from their sockets, Dennis Rumes has two hours and forty five minutes before he knows he should go to bed, and a little over four until sleep finally takes him and his neck goes slack as licorice. If he's lucky they might get out by 10:35 and he can grab a couple beers with friends. Theres always someone, somewhere waiting to drink with you. Then take the bus home and pass out just before the headache sets in.
       "Dennis"
       "Yeah"
       "I'm leaving. I was supposed to be off at 7, and I'm leaving."
       He looks up. "Hey, come on, were almost done, and you've already earned 12 raffle coupons for the overtime. Jo, be a champ."
       She shakes her head but knows she's screwing him over. "15. I'm sorry but I made plans and I'm not breaking them." So thats why she looks dressed up. Places to go, people to lay. That's okay, the bonus is gone. One more night of bad numbers isnt going to do much more than whats been already done. Probably be off in time for the bar. Could be a blessing tomorrow.
       He draws a smile. "Suit yourself. You know you're already pretty close to your second warning though, right?"
       "I am not, and I've already worked my scheduled shift. I can leave if I want, Dennis. Don't threaten me over this." She looks smug, like she knows she's right. Pokerface?
       "I don't know Jo, one could say that we had a verbal agreement about you working until close. From a certain perspective, that's negligence of your duties. Technically grounds for termination-"
       "Oh, fuck you! I'm leaving." And she does. Oh well.
Dennis finishes his drink and folds the paper cup in half, crushing the wax bottom between his fingers and the meat of his palm, then throws it into the garbage. He's always thought of himself as a good supervisor. Helps out his team as much as he can, but they dont give a cold shit. They promise they'll work when scheduled but you know half the time they don't. If his team were better on attendance, he wouldn't be on the phones. Hasn't taken calls since the promotion. "Thank you for calling Stream, my name is Dennis, how can I help you today?"
       "Why the fuck is my phone turned off?" Great.
       "Sir, can I get the Wireless number you're calling about?"
       "I don't know it."

     "Okay.. Can I get your account number?"
       "My what?"
     He feels silly sitting there, his desk so much taller than everyone else's, hunched over his computer with his feet on the ring. A trained chimp selling rateplans.