The exercise:
I think it makes sense, timing wise, to return to Hindsight today.
Having just finally added to October's entry, I'll take second turn again this month and aim for mid-December for the finale. I'll see if it makes sense for me to go first or second at that point.
3 comments:
I'm not sure I'm as happy as you seem to be about taking the lead on Hindsight again this month, but if it means that we get to Hindsight in November I guess that's what's important! Just to note that I liked how you twisted the tale around again with your addition, bringing this mysterious maybe-nurse-maybe-not into almost the realm of stalker. And the revelation about where our narrator's word-confusion comes from was timely and apt, too.
So, what have you left me with...?
Hindsight
"So how did you get your injury?" asked Melina, leaning slightly away from me as though worried that I was going to fall into the fountain and pull her in with me. Which, in hindsight was a perfectly reasonable thing to think after everything else that had happened to me, but at the time I thought maybe she smelled something bad.
"I --" I said, and my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and stared at it, because I was pretty certain the last person to call me on it was Serena. While it would be interesting to know what happened to her after the fireworks, I had definitely gotten the impression that there were other people looking for her who might care more about finding her than I did. The number looked oddly familiar.
"Who is it?" asked Melina, probably puzzled by seeing me stare at the phone and not answer it.
"Me," I said slowly. "I think."
"What?"
I answered the phone trying to sound cheerful just in case it was me. The number was the landline from my old flat in Maine but I was pretty sure I wasn't there right now. I mean, I couldn't be, right? Silence replied to me.
"Hello?" I tried again. "Hello? Is that... is that me?" Melina smiled in that way people reserve for small children who've just said something stupid in a loud voice. "Hello? Hello?"
There might have been a gasp, but I wasn't sure, and after six more hellos I hung up.
"That was you? Are you not talking to yourself?" Melina was grinning but it looked a little forced.
"It was my old landline, from my flat in Maine," I said, trying to explain. "But I was the only person who made calls from it."
Melina looked abruptly relieved. "So someone else has moved in and lives there now," she said. "Maybe they found your number written down somewhere and were curious."
"No," I said. "I don't think so. When I left my roommate was still living there." I tried to explain about Bobo the Mime and Melina looked more and more concerned. "And I think he kept a snake in the bathroom," I said, "and that was probably why it seemed like he was using the front yard as a toilet."
"He sounds insane," said Melina. She sounded nice but emphatic. "I think you're much better off here than there." I smiled hopefully. "So he just called you then?"
"No," I said. "He's a mime, whenever he answered the phone he'd mime to the person on the other end until I took the phone off him and talked."
"So the silence on that call," said Melina, speaking slowly and clearly, "could have been a mime trying to communicate with you?"
What she was trying to say suddenly dawned on me like sunrise and I nodded vigorously, overbalanced, and fell backwards into the fountain with a splash. Water leapt elegantly into the air and tiny rainbows refracted all around the plaza for a couple of seconds.
"Perhaps you'd better call him back," said Melina. "Oh no wait, that won't work either. Damn it, I guess you'll have to wait for him to fax you."
I laughed and shook the water out of my ears.
"Dinner?" I suggested, and she smiled. "Sure," she said. "But you're paying since nothing beats your tale of the mime answering the telephone."
Over dinner she explained that she would be here for another five days and I realised that I only had another three, at least if I didn't change my ticket. I wasn't sure if I should ask her if she wanted to me to stay on, and after they brought my Chicken Kir (it turns out I wanted to order Chicken Kiev and got the name wrong) I decided to wait until the day after to ask her. The waiter poured the Kir Royale over my chicken breast and it fizzed on the mashed potatoes and Melina pretended that she couldn't see what I was trying to eat. It tasted... strong.
My phone rang again.
"Hello?" I said. I didn't recognise the number at all this time.
"Do you know a Mr. Bobo, Mime Artist?" asked a female voice on the other end. With hindsight, I should have said no. But I was curious as to if it had been him earlier, so I said, "Yes!"
"He was burned to death earlier today," said the voice. "Can you tell me exactly where you are, please?"
Without stopping to think first, I hung up. Which, I mean, maybe not the best choice? This was only four days ago and hindsight has yet to bless me with any incense on the matter.
Insurance?
Insight. That's the one.
Anyway. To be fair, I haven't exactly gone to great lengths to keep up with the news back home.
"Bobo calling again?" Melina asked with a raised eyebrow.
"No," I said. In the silence that followed I felt clarification was required. "Wrong number."
"Oh. Then why did you say yes before you hung up?"
"Hmm?" The Kir Royale definitely wasn't speeding up my thoughts. "The lady thought she might have fat-fingered the number and I guess when she didn't recognize my voice she was pretty sure she had. I just confirmed it for her, is all."
"I see," Melina said, chewing her food thoughtfully. I was desperate to change the subject but couldn't think of anything that would get the job done without leaving doubt in its wake. "So you didn't recognize her voice either?"
"Right." I was getting hot and sweat was running down my back like it wanted to head for the exit. I shoveled mashed potatoes into my mouth. It didn't help.
And then my phone rang again.
"Excuse me," I mumbled, spitting potatoes all over the table. I silenced the call and headed for the bathroom, narrowly avoiding collisions with three different waiters on the way.
Once I was safely locked in a stall I placed a hand on the wall behind the toilet to steady myself. My phone was still in my other hand as I found myself looking straight down at the toilet. It rang again and I was so startled that I dropped it and then watched in horror as it landed with an emphatic splash.
"Woo, big deposit at bank!" came a male voice from the next stall.
"No! No, I dropped my phone!"
"Ah. Best to flush and get new one. Cheap and... not so messy."
"Right." I stood there, thinking that man had the right idea. Only later did I wonder why he spoke English first, not Japanese. Had I said something to myself and he'd overheard it? But in the moment all I could see was that he was right.
I flushed and watched as my only connection to home disappeared down the toilet.
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