Fiction Fragment: The Call

I waited and I waited. People think its ridiculous, and it was a misery I had brought upon myself. But I knew better. I knew what it meant to be responsible. At least I thought I knew.

That night too, it was 3AM and I was driving back home. I suddenly got a call from a very familiar voice on the other side. I was in a hurry to get back home, but that voice and that call made me pull over. My stomach was churning with the sensatiopnal feeling of bile juice rising up and down like a bucket full of water does when you try to drag it along on a high friction surface. I had not eaten anything for the last 18 hours. And even now, I knew that getting home would not mean that I would get something to eat. First, she was not at home. Second, I had finished off all the leftover stuff already. There was bottle of Gatorade though. Is there a roadside eatery open at this hour? I am sure there is. I just did not know which one and where. I hated that call. I had told them that I will be home in 15 minutes. Can’t they wait till then?

I had been with them on the phone for the last 4 hours. Talking, fighting, reasoning, debating… just getting ready for what was going to happen.

By the time the call got over, in all of about half a minute, I was seething with rage. WHY? WHY??? My whole evening flashed in front of me. The refusal to talk, cancellation of plans, leaving for friends place because waiting was just not worth it, my 4 hour marathon, my hungry growling stomach, everything.

He had said, “Stephen is busy. We won’t be having the call today. Its been pushed out for tomorrow. So, we have 24 more hours to work on this deck!”