Our Calls

   I idly wait by the phone. 9:00 reads my watch as I wait for the high, pitch changing rings. He should have called by now. It was 9:01. He’s never late. 9:02. What do I say today? 9:03 the phone rings. I pick it up. A machine replied as, “The State Correctional Institution...”. I always hated that because it got in the way of our conversations. As I press 5 to continue with the call, I hear a warm hello on the other end.

  He starts up with, “How are you doing?” To which I reply with the normal, “Good, how about yourself?” With a simple reply of, “Not to bad.”

   We talk about politics, discussing the current issues of today. He says that it is Obama’s fault and I say it’s everyone’s fault. We playfully argue over who is right.

   We then talk of music. How I love this part. He starts by saying what he accomplished this week on his keyboard. This time, it was “Money” by Pink Floyd, the same song I learned on bass a few weeks back. Then he asks how rock ensemble is going. I always complain, because I am not playing the songs I want. He chuckles and asks why I even take the class then. I roll my eyes, especially since he can’t see me.

   We go into religion. He talks of his debates with the Jehovah witnesses that bother him from time to time. I just tell him he’s instigating. He impishly defends himself and yet again, I roll my eyes.

   We talk of my life, and how it is going. I tell him of the interesting time that I-

You have 60 seconds remaining

                                                                                                                                     went to a car show. I tell him that I am writing some very interesting short stories with fellow classmates that I want to send to him over the snail mail and I tell him that he should play this song and he tells me that I should listen to this song and I should keep on trucking in physics and that-

You have 30 seconds remaining

   “Man, we never have enough time do we? Didn’t we forget to talk about college or something silly like that?”

   “Yeah, maybe.” I replied

    He tells me he loves me. He tells me that I should do the best I can always. He tells me he loves me. He tells me he’s proud of me. He tells me he loves me. He tells me he’s going to see me soon. He tells me he loves me.