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.