On Wednesday this woman calls me, she asks me, do I recognize her voice. Yes. We sort-of got engaged years ago. Years and years. Wedding never happened. She says she wants to apologize for the way she broke it off.
"I'm not sorry it ended," she says. "It had to end. I am sorry for the way I dumped you. I could have done that better."
I say, "What is it you think I'm supposed to give a fuck now?"
"Don't be a dick. I'm trying to be kind."
"Wait. This is Shelly, right?"
She hangs up.
Two hundred and fifty minutes later the phone rings again.
"Be a dick if you want. You're not a dick. But I understand I guess."
"You're still obsessed with my penis," I say.
"Shut up. Fuck you. I thought you were gonna have this great future. I thought you were gonna go back to college if I dumped you. I was doing you a favor, I swear, I didn't want to hold you back. You know?"
Fifteen silent seconds pass. I say, "I thought you weren't sorry you dumped me?"
"I shouldn't have accused you of fucking Tanya. I knew you weren't fucking some slut bitch behind my back. I guess I kinda wanted it to be your fault. When we broke up. Everybody hated me. Your mom hates me."
"I'm drinking, um, I'm drinking Natural Light right now. This sucks. Ask me why the fuck I'm drinking Light, you know me and beer."
"Does your mom hate me?"
"I think I may be demon possessed. Everybody's like yeah, uh-huh, when I tell them. Except I'm serious. How much would that explain, if I was?"
"I still actually have your mom's chest-of-drawers. I've been meaning to have it shipped back, actually."
More silence. Thirty seconds. A minute. Two.
"Listen," I say, "I gotta go. They moved me to first shift."
"Ronnie still the manager?"
"Yeah."
"Shit. He's been there, forever."
"Yup. Hey, take care."
"Wait. Wait."
"What?"
"I don't know."
"Why did you call me?"
"Don't be a dick."
"Why did you call me?"
"Look, yes, okay, you should go to bed."
Click.
I'm damn near asleep when the phone rings again.
"I don't know," she says. "I'm thinking about marrying Chet. You remember him, you met him, he worked at the dry cleaners?"
I have no idea. "You have my blessing or permission or what the fuck ever."
"Fuck you. I wanna know if you believe if it woulda worked out. If you and me had gotten married. If I'd be a good wife."
"I spent the first six or seven months after you dumped me, I used to come up with these real complicated fantasies of how I'd kill you. Shit that would make Hannibal Lecter puke. The weird thing was, nobody ever asked me how I could hate you so much."
"I was a good girlfriend."
"You'd think, if I'm supposed to be so all in love with you, somebody would wonder how I could sudden-like hate you so bad."
"I didn't cheat on you. I treated you good. I'd have been a good wife."
"You still got that cat? The one pissed on my backpack? I told everybody, you remember everybody, I said I was gonna nail that goddamn fucking cat to the hood of my goddamn car."
"Please don't be a dick."
"Are you gonna hang up again?"
Long, long pause.
"Tell your mom I'm gonna have her stuff sent back. Tell her I'm sorry."
"She moved to Chicago."
"I would've been a real good wife."
"Are you and Chet inviting me to the wedding?"
"No. I dunno. Would you wanna come?"
"Who the fuck is Chet?"
"Listen, this phone card I'm using is about to run out. I don't want you to be mad at me any more. I was just thinking the other day, I was wondering about you, I guess. Chet and I were out looking at cakes and chapels. I got reminded, I guess."
"I really don't think about you so often. You remember Naomi? We're not getting married, me and her. Fuck no. But she thinks she's pregnant. I'm not trying to be funny, I'm not being a dick. I don't... I have no idea what'll happen. I love her but I can't stand her sometimes. Like, whenever she's sober? I swear I'm not trying to be funny."
"Hey, listen, this thing's out of credit. I'll mail you an invitation. Come if you want."
"Naomi says she hasn't taken a pregnancy test yet, that she ain't sure. She's fuck-all terrible of a liar. Fiona knows too but they won't say jack to me. They're enjoying torturing me."
"Take care, okay?"
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Shit."
"You'll figure it out."
"Hey, Shelly, seriously, call me again sometime. Seriously. I do kinda sorta miss talking to you."
"I'll mail you."
"You know I moved. You got the new address? Hello? Hello?"
I waited for the phone to ring again.
And I waited.