Monkey Business

some news for russ

Sunday, April 11, 6:20 p.m.

I’m lying on my bed picking my face. It’s gross, but I don’t care. I need to. I can see the blood on my fingers. I look in the mirror and see how ugly I am. There are patches of raw, red skin on my chin, on my forehead, around my nose. Disgusting. Just how I feel.

The phone rings and I quickly pick it up. “Hello?”

“How is it possible that for the six months we were still dating you never once answered the phone and today you answer practically before it even rings?”

“Hello?” I repeat. “Who is it?”

“How do you not recognize my voice? It’s Sharon.”

“Oh, hi.” Her voice sounds so soft and I feel empty, and I realize how much I’ve missed her. “I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

“Hi. I didn’t expect to call you. How are you?”

“I’m all right.” I reach my hand back to my face and continue picking.

“That’s good. Are you coming back to Toronto this summer?”

“No, actually, I accepted a summer position in New York.”

Pause. “I thought that might happen now that we’re no longer together.”

“There’s a lot of opportunity in the U. S.,” I say. “And because of the MBA I have a visa to work here for a year after I graduate. But I’m having a few issues…” I want to confide in her even though I know I have no right.

“I need to tell you something. I don’t expect you to come home, but I hope you’ll contribute financially. It’s up to you how involved you want to get.”

What is she talking about? “Involved with what?”

I hear her take a deep breath on the other end of the line. And then, “Shit.” The next thing I hear is the sound of her puking.

What, did she drunk-dial me?

“Involved with your baby, Russ. I’m pregnant and I’m keeping the baby.”