The Phone on the Wall

The phone hangs in the dining room on the wall, so there is no privacy. It’s the only phone we have in the house so there is no way to take it somewhere, so you can have a private conversation. If the phone rings during dinner, you have a built in audience to your every word.

It’s been a year since our fight and a day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about you. You, who had been my best friend. You, who have now missed a year of comings and goings in my life. If we even get back together, how will I remember all you have missed.

Let’s face it, it was a stupid fight. You knew I was afraid to drive on the highway, yet somehow you tricked me into it. Linda sat there in the car with us not knowing what to say to make it better. I just wanted you out of my car. I was so mad at you. Later that night as I lay in bed, I would relive the evening and think of how stupid we could sometimes be.

I was out the next day when you came by to drop off the envelope. When I opened the letter, the $10 you owed me fell out. The letter was short and to the point. You took responsibility for pushing all the wrong buttons the night before and apologized. But then you went too far. You said that maybe we needed a break from each other. The words started to run together and I realized I was crying. This was nuts, a break from each other? We were joined at the hip. Such close friends that we finished each others sentences. No one knew me like you did. Our friends never understood the bond, assuming we were secretly dating.

Once my girlfriends found out about the fight, the battle lines were drawn. It was them versus us, the boys versus the girls.

A year later, almost to the day, the wall phone rang after dinner. My sister Anna answered it and started excitedly talking to the caller. She described her high school classes and teachers and I got up to leave the room to offer her some privacy. I didn’t take two steps before she handed me the phone. “It’s for you, it’s Koji”, she said and I stopped in my tracks. I really didn’t have any time to think so I took the phone and quietly said, “hello?” “Hi Nad, do you want to go out for a coffee?” a phrase he’d repeated countless times during our friendship. “Yes”, I answered breathlessly, not quite believing it had come to an end. “I’ll pick you up in 15 minutes”, he said and hung up the phone. I stood there dumbfounded staring at the phone in my hand. Then I turned to my family and announced, “I’m going out for coffee with Koji”.

He was late, but then again, had I really expected anything different. He finally pulled up in front of the house, driving his father’s car. I’d missed the Rambler station wagon almost as much as I’d missed Koji. For that past year, I’d looked for it in all our favourite haunts and was always happy to see it. The plaid interior was classic and the fact that it had no radio meant there was never a distraction to our endless conversations.

I don’t remember much about the night except that we went to our favourite coffee shop “The Coffee Mill” in Yorkville. I remember that I talked incessantly about what had transpired that year, needing for him to be caught up on my life.

When he dropped me off at home that night, he kissed me and hugged me. He made me promise that we’d never fight again. Friends since we were 15 years old, we’ve never fought again.