Talk to Me by Zoe Amos

Author:Zoe Amos [Amos, Zoe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapphire Books Publishing
Published: 2021-02-28T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty

Though I had promised to go on the air with Marly, I wheedled an extra few days of waiting on the premise I was listening and learning how best to contribute to the show. I’m not sure she bought it, but the end result was the same—a delay. In spare moments, I started playing little conversations in my head, asides that wouldn’t overshadow or misdirect her patter.

“Tomorrow’s Monday,” I said to Deena during our weekend conversation. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Of course you can. You underestimate yourself.”

“Please. You’re always saying that.”

“Because it’s true. Claire, you’re on the right path.”

“How can I be sure? My life is so different, nothing is familiar anymore.”

“Great! You’re not walking in circles.”

“Very funny. You should go on the air.”

“How about I visit instead? You and I need face time.”

I agreed. It would be good to see her. Some things were best shared in the same room, not over the phone.

The prospect of her visit was much more pleasant than the mental exercises I put myself through wondering why Marly wanted me to go live. Speaking on the air seemed contrary to my whole purpose on Gayline. Marly needed a board operator so she didn’t have to do what she was asking of me. It didn’t make sense. What did she think I might add by throwing out a word or two?

“I have a major case of the jitters,” I said to Marly as we readied for Monday’s show. She made notations on the daily log and I wasn’t sure she heard. “I’m really nervous about going on the air. I need more time to get used to the idea.”

“No sweat. I won’t bug you.”

I twined my ankles and feet around the legs of my stool until I was tightly entangled. Marly began her show with a list of community events. Topics changed with the few callers who rang in to voice opinions. It was a slow day. Nothing much was being said, and I didn’t have anything to add.

In the second hour, she nattered on about a ski trip gone awry. Her story didn’t have much punch and I was getting restless. I listened impatiently as I leaned off to one side of the counter. My feet dangled next to my stool and I fidgeted with a pen.

“We couldn’t get our rental equipment fixed and we were freezing our butts off. It was so cold. Really, really cold.”

I brought my mic in toward my mouth and opened up the line. “How cold was it?” I droned. I was afraid I sounded bored.

Marly’s eyebrows lifted in astonishment.

“How cold, you ask?” She looked straight at me, her blue eyes wide.

I swallowed the stone in my throat and came back at her. “Yeah, how cold was it?” My sound level matched Marly’s.

“It was so cold…it was so cold, the Saint Bernard drank his own brandy.”

“Do tell.”

“It was so cold, the mountain packed up and went to Florida.”

“That’s cold.”

“It was so cold, our words froze as we spoke and we had to look in the snow to read what they said.

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