Hung Up (11 page)

April 22

April 23, 4:46 p.m.

James:
Lucy, I am so sorry. I know you don’t want to talk to me. This isn’t entirely my fault. There was a family emergency. My mom picked me up from school. I forgot
my cell phone. I had to go to Canada. These aren’t just lame excuses. I didn’t have your phone number. But it wouldn’t have mattered, because I didn’t have cell phone reception in Montreal. When I was at the hospital, I tried to find your home number online. But I couldn’t find a Villaire anywhere in Vermont. I thought about calling one of your friends, but I didn’t know CeCe’s last name. I want to fix things. I’m so sorry that I worried you. I feel awful about your hives. I didn’t mean to do this. I am so sorry. I’ll take you for a nice dinner at Single Pebble. I’ll take you to another dance. I’ll take you anywhere. I like you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please call me.

April 24, 6:21 p.m.

James:
You might think that I sent the flowers because two days ago was Earth Day and tomorrow is Arbor Day. But I sent them because I still feel bad and I want to talk to you. We’re friends, Lucy. Friends should forgive each other. This was beyond my control. It’s like I was one of those guys bobbing in the sea in Crane’s story. My fate was out of my hands. There was nothing I could do. Come on. Call me back.

April 25, 6:34 a.m.

James:
I thought maybe if I called you in the morning
you’d talk to me. Lucy, I miss talking to you. I feel bad. I wish that hadn’t happened. Why don’t you call me back? Think about it.

April 25, sent 12:09 p.m.

James:
You should answer your phone. We’d both feel better.

April 25, 3:39 p.m.

James:
Even if you aren’t answering your phone, I figure that I can leave you messages about my day. I talked to Jairo today. He felt bad about my family emergency. Nan too. She found me and we talked at lunch. I don’t want to tell your voice mailbox about that situation. I’d rather tell you. I’m not trying to be mysterious about it. It’s just that it’s personal. Anyway, it felt good to talk to Jairo. And you were right about him and Nan. Things are rocky. I don’t think the foundation was all that great. Good call on your part. I don’t know if me and Jairo will be great friends again or anything. And talking to Nan was a little weird. I should just forgive both of them and move on. How about this, you forgive me and I’ll forgive them? Everybody wins. Especially me. That was a joke. Maybe next time I call, you’ll pick up your phone. Maybe.

April 27, 2:34 p.m.

James:
Lucy, this is ridiculous. I should just drive out to your house and force you to have a conversation with me. You’re being way too stubborn. Answer your phone. Just talk to me.

Would it be that hard to do that? I said I was sorry. What more can I do? Tell me! Is this really how you want things to end?

April 27, 2:35 p.m.

James:
You’re acting like a baby! I forgot to tell you that in my last message.
Whah. Whah. Whah.

April 27, 2:41 p.m.

James:
I shouldn’t have yelled at you in my last message. I’m sorry. I just want to talk to you. I want to fix this. Pick. Up. The. Phone.

April 28, 5:28 p.m.

James:
This is a serious call. I have something important to tell you. It’s about Bo. I’ve been thinking about him a lot. And I’ve been thinking about what you said after you had your picnic dream. The one where your second-life sister disappears. There’s a good reason why I’m mad at Bo. God, Lucy, I wish I was talking to you. I want to be
friends with you again and have somebody who can see my life the way I see my life. Would that be so bad? Okay. I’m going to tell you something that I never tell anyone. Before Bo went into rehab, he went to a party. It was a stupid, out-of-control party in Waterbury and when he got home, he did something. It was bad. Something nobody should ever do, no matter how sick they are. It made me hate him. Anyway, while he’s been away, he’s been writing me these letters. I’m pretty sure they’re apologies. But I never open them. I shove them in an old ski boot in my closet. But because of you, because of you not forgiving me, I understand how much forgiveness matters. Being unforgiven is the worst. It’s shit. So I’m going to start reading his letters. I don’t know if I’ll read them all. I got another one yesterday. That’s what I’m going to be doing all night. I’d really like it if you’d call me. I didn’t hurt you on purpose. I’m not an asshole. If I could change things, I would. Seriously. And Lucy, what does all this silence really accomplish? Does it make you feel better? Are you happy like this?

April 28, 10:51 p.m.

Lucy:
Hey.

James:
Finally.

Lucy:
I might hang up at any time.

James:
No. Don’t say that. Don’t hang up. Come on.

Lucy:
So what happened?

James:
With Bo or with my family emergency?

Lucy:
I’d assumed the family emergency was about Bo.

James:
No. It was my grandmother.

Lucy:
Is she okay?

James:
No. She’s sick.

Lucy:
Does she have cancer?

James:
No. Why do you always think somebody I know has cancer? That’s weird and pessimistic.

Lucy:
Lots of people have cancer. And you keep using the word “sick.” And that can mean cancer. Because some people don’t like to use the word “cancer,” because it’s frightening.

James:
Fine. No, she’s sick in another way.

Lucy:
Heart disease?

James:
God, Lucy, I’m not trying to make you guess. If you were quiet for two seconds, I’d tell you.

Lucy:
So tell me.

James:
The doctors don’t quite know what she has. She gets in her car to go somewhere basic, like the gas station or grocery store, but she doesn’t stop driving. She leaves the city. The state. This last time she left the country.

Lucy:
Did she get in a wreck?

James:
No. She’s a good driver. That’s not the problem. The best way I can say it is she’s going senile.

Lucy:
That’s why you were in Canada?

James:
Yeah. She got in her car and didn’t stop and the police found her sleeping in a parking lot near the Biodome.

Lucy:
Does she have Alzheimer’s disease?

James:
No. It’s not that. It’s different. After the police found her, they took her to the hospital.

Lucy:
Is she still in the hospital?

James:
No. She’s staying with us.

Lucy:
Is her car still in Canada?

James:
No. I drove it home.

Lucy:
Do you have to hide her car keys?

James:
Lucy, this isn’t a joke. It’s a dangerous situation. She goes to some messed-up place and becomes totally unreachable.

Lucy:
Does she forget who you are? Because this totally sounds like Alzheimer’s disease.

James:
It’s not that. They’ve done tests. They’re sure.

Lucy:
Doctors are wrong about things all the time. Even cancer.

James:
These doctors aren’t wrong. What’s with you? Why can’t you just let me talk about this?

Lucy:
I’m sorry.

James:
She can’t live in Michigan anymore. She can’t live by herself.

Lucy:
Does she like living with you?

James:
I think so. But she’s asked me for my car keys about twenty times.

Lucy:
Where does she want to go?

James:
Everywhere. The laundromat. The hardware store. The library.

Lucy:
Do you take her?

James:
She doesn’t need to go. She just wants to go.

Lucy:
Is she bored?

James:
I thought that. What happens is she gets all
dressed up. Nylons. Lipstick. Scarf. Then, she writes a note and puts it on the refrigerator. Then, she grabs her purse and asks me for the keys.

Lucy:
And what do you say?

James:
I tell her that the car is broken.

Lucy:
You lie to her?

James:
It’s the easiest way to handle it.

Lucy:
Doesn’t it bother you, though, that you’re lying to her?

James:
Since I’m keeping her safe, it doesn’t bother me that much.

Lucy:
Oh.

James:
I think lying is rotten. I’m not a natural-born liar. But in this situation, it’s the best thing.

Lucy:
Okay. So, what’s new?

James:
That’s an awkward transition. Come on. What was going on with you? We don’t talk for eleven days. You don’t return any of my calls. You made me feel so awful. I listened to your messages. I know I made you worry and I hurt your feelings, but you wouldn’t even listen to what I had to say.

Lucy:
That’s not true. I listened to your messages.

James:
But you never picked up. And you never called me back.

Lucy:
I know I should have called you back sooner.

James:
Why didn’t you?

Lucy:
It’s complicated. I’m complicated.

James:
Does that mean you’re not going to tell me?

Lucy:
Yes.

James:
You’re so frustrating. Are you ready to hang up?

Lucy:
No.

James:
What do you want to talk about, then?

Lucy:
Something that you probably don’t want to talk about.

James:
Bo?

Lucy:
Yes.

James:
Why are you so curious about my brother?

Lucy:
I just am.

James:
You want to hear about the letters. I knew you would. I’ve only read four so far. It’s slowgoing.

Lucy:
How many has he sent you?

James:
At least twenty.

Lucy:
And you never read any until now?

James:
No.

Lucy:
That’s rotten of you.

James:
Don’t judge me, Lucy. That’s not fair. I’m not in the best headspace right now.

Lucy:
Can I ask you something before you talk about the letters?

James:
Sure.

Lucy:
What did Bo do?

James:
What do you mean?

Lucy:
You said that after he got back from a party that he did something awful before he went into rehab. What did he do?

James:
It’s hard for me to talk about.

Lucy:
Did he hurt somebody?

James:
Not in the way that you’re thinking.

Lucy:
How do you know what I’m thinking?

James:
He didn’t physically hurt anybody besides himself.

Lucy:
What happened?

James:
He lost control.

Lucy:
What does that mean?

James:
He just went crazy one night. It was the most awful thing I’d ever seen.

Lucy:
What did he do?

James:
I don’t want to go there.

Lucy:
Did he try to kill himself?

James:
Lucy, stop. I’ve just told you some serious personal shit about my grandmother and my brother, which I never do. For the first time in your life can you respect some boundaries? God! You’re so frustrating. Do you have any idea how I’m feeling? Can you be a friend to me?

Lucy:
I understand what you’re saying. Yes, I can be a friend.

James:
Okay, but I’m tired of talking on the phone. I think we should meet.

Lucy:
I think we should talk on the phone some more.

James:
Really?

Lucy:
Things have gotten weird. You stood me up. It made me feel fragile. And now we’re making all these personal confessions and stuff. This feels different.

James:
First, I had a family emergency. You can’t hold that against me. Second, you haven’t made any personal confessions. And you basically dragged what I said out of me.

Lucy:
But you have to agree that this feels weird now.

James:
No. If we talked face-to-face—

Lucy:
James, I’m not ready to meet.

James:
You’re impossible.

Lucy:
Don’t say that. Take a breath. Okay. James, I need to tell you something.

James:
What?

Lucy:
Well, I can’t tell you right now.

James:
Why, do you have to go somewhere?

Lucy:
No.

James:
Then what is it? You need to stop being so obnoxious. It’s stupid and mean to jerk me around like this.

Lucy:
Stop judging me. I want to tell you something that I don’t talk about with people. Ever.

James:
And I’m telling you that I want to hear it. So tell me.

Lucy:
Not yet. You should read more of Bo’s letters. I’ll call you later.

James:
No. Tell me now or don’t tell me. Ever.

Lucy:
You don’t mean that.

James:
I actually think that I do.

Lucy:
When I tell you what I haven’t told you, it’s going to make you feel really terrible.