Read Online Whenever You Call by Anna King - Free Book Online Page A

trying to keep myself from orchestrating everyone into a discussion. Since I wasn’t shy and I was impatient, I tended to take control of social gatherings.
    My daughter, Alex, had felt it necessary to conduct an intervention on this propensity of mine, right smack dab in the middle of last year’s Thanksgiving dinner. She’d enlisted everyone but me (the definition of an intervention, I know) and she started by touching her nose with her right forefinger. At that sign, every single person at the table stopped talking. At first, I figured they were just tired, then I thought someone must have gotten their feelings hurt, and finally, I could only assume the turkey had been poisoned with a substance that rendered a tongue immobile. Except, my tongue just kept babbling. I did everything I could until, ultimately, I burst into tears and sobbed into my linen napkin. The entire family then ganged up on me to inform me that I was too controlling in social situations. Too too.
    Since then, I’d been understandably wary. The silence at our table stretched like a spider web. How could they stand it? Didn’t it make them nervous? Why didn’t anyone say anything ?
    Jelly finally opened her mouth. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to memorize 25 drinks by tomorrow.”
    “Sure you can,” I bellowed, grateful to be allowed to speak and trying to buoy her confidence.
    “You’re smart,” she said.
    The others nodded.
    “I am not smart, plus I’m old. It’s much harder to memorize when you’re old.”
    Ike turned around and searched for the pizza.
    Cathy said, “That’s true.”
    Halfheartedly, Jelly added, “You’re not old.”
    “We could meet early in the morning and test each other,” I said.
    The other four just stared at me. It was obvious I was a dinosaur lost in the underbrush of an entirely new plant life form. Luckily, the smoking hot pizza arrived.
    Ike ate two pieces in the time the rest of us had finished one, but it seemed to wake him up. He grabbed a third piece and began talking at the same time. “I’ve got my first job all lined up,” he said.
    “Lucky you,” Jelly said like she knew something.
    “Yeah, my uncle’s got a bar in Malvern. I get certified, I get the job.”
    Staring at Ike, I knew with a certainty that he wouldn’t get certified. I asked, “What have you been doing until now?”
    “My last job was at the hardware store down the street from me, but I don’t really know that much about fixing stuff, so it wasn’t a good fit.”
    “Umm,” Jelly murmured.
    I looked at Cathy and Joan, hoping they might pick up the conversational slack.
    Joan started to talk in a tiny voice and I realized I’d never heard her speak until this moment. “I think maybe I can’t do this, you know?”
    “It’s so hard to remember everything!” Cathy agreed.
    “The first morning is bound to be challenging,” I said. “Hang in there. “
    They glared at me. Apparently, they had a real thing about glaring, especially at me.
    “We should tell Al if we need him to slow down and give us more help,” Jelly said.
    I knew Al wouldn’t be sympathetic to that approach, but I didn’t think I could say anything. In fact, I felt so discouraged by the whole environment that I dug in my purse for ten bucks, which I threw down on the table before standing up. “I’ve got an errand to run,” I said. “See you back at class.”
    “You gave too much money,” Ike said.
    I waved away his concern and got the hell out of there.
    On the sidewalk, I hesitated. Then I started walking fast, going nowhere. Which was pretty much how I felt. It hit me that I needed a bathroom in the worst way. The urge to pee nearly made me fall over. As I turned into the first coffee shop I could find, I knew why I was so overwhelmed. When you’re a writer, the toilet is your best friend. That may sound absurd and downright yucky, but what can I say? It’s true. Ask any writer and if they’re in the least bit honest,