The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet by Susan Ward Read Free Book Online Page A

My leg
starts to jiggle double-time. Answer the phone. Answer the phone. Answer—
    “Yes?” Abrupt. Imperative.
    I’m shocked into stillness. It’s not just a
private line. It’s one Alan answers.
    “Yes?” This time it’s barked, and I realize I
missed my turn to talk last round.
    I crinkle my nose. “It’s me.”
    The second I say that I kick myself. Fuck, can
you be any more lame, Chrissie? It’s vain to think he’ll figure out who it
is from that and definitely potentially devastating that I’ve had one of those Chrissie
cute-cute conversational moments and he might respond with something more
in the line with how he said “yes.”
    Fudge, why doesn’t he say something? “If you
don’t start speaking soon, Alan, I’m going to fall asleep. I’m exhausted.”
    He laughs. “Sorry. I’m not over the shock that
you called. I wasn’t expecting you to. You surprised me.”
    Weird, blunt Alan honesty.
    “I wasn’t expecting to call,” I whisper,
then cringe. God, that was sort of a bitchy thing to say. I change course. “I
wanted to thank you for the presents. But Alan, you shouldn’t have done it and
you shouldn’t have sent a check. That I’m ripping up.”
    “I thought I should send something,” is all he
says.
    That makes me tense. I’m unsure what that means.
“You didn’t have to. And you definitely surprised me.”
    “Good.” I can hear it in his voice. He’s smiling.
“You should keep the check. Let Kaley decide later which present she prefers.
My experience is kids usually pick the money.”
    We both laugh, kind of stiffly, and then there’s
another moment of awkward silence. I should probably say good night and run
while I’m ahead.
    “Do you want to hear something silly?” I ask.
    More awkward moments of nothing pass through the
phone. Then Alan laughs. “Sure, Chrissie. Tell me your something silly.”
    “The backside of my house is all glass. I can see
the ocean from every room and at night when the oil derricks are lit up, to me
they still look like pirate ships.”
    My body covers in a burn. Oh fuck, why did I say
that? I just dragged us back in time to the night we met, to our walk on the
beach. What the hell is the matter with me?”
    “What do you do all day?” he asks.
    My eyes fly wide. Alan just pivoted in
conversation, when Alan never pivots. I’m not sure why—to avoid sensitive
history he doesn’t want to revisit or for my sake. I let out a breath I didn’t
realize I was holding.
    “I’ve been working on my music. You were right.
Some of my journals are definitely filled with song lyrics.”
    He laughs again. “The chord notations, Chrissie.
A dead giveaway for anyone but you.”
    I flush. “Ha, ha, ha. Very funny. Thanks a lot.
That was sort of mean.”
    “So tell me about your music and what you’re
thinking of doing.”
    I sink down against the bed. “I don’t know what I
want to do with it, Alan. I’m just doing it. Probably nothing. Just something
to do.”
    Two hours later, I’m curled around my pillow
beneath the blankets, fighting off sleep, with the phone resting between the
bed and my ear since I’m too tired to hold it any longer. The minutes have
passed filled with his meaningless questions about unexciting tidbits of my
life that I can’t figure out why he wants to know. But I’ve missed the thrill
of Alan’s voice, so I answer the questions so the call won’t end. I love his
low, raspy accented voice. The way he curls the words off his lips. Every word
a velvet seduction.
    Rubbing my knuckles into my eyes, I can feel that
sleep is starting to win. “I need to go, Alan. I’m too tired to talk anymore.
But can I say something before we hang up?”
    This time when he laughs he sounds tired, too. “I
guess I have been monopolizing the call. Go ahead, Chrissie.”
    I brace myself and say quickly, “I don’t want you
to ever hate me. I don’t want us to be enemies. Not ever. It’s important to me
that we don’t hate each