I hate to bother you, but I can’t get a word in.
A few years ago I was talking with a new boyfriend in a crowded bar. Music was blaring and he was talking, talking, talking. I could tell by the puppy dog look on his face that he was trying to be oh so sincere about something. He was pouring out his heart and asking me to sop up his every word. Except. I didn’t hear a one. He talked and talked and I couldn’t hear him. La la la went the loud lounge singer. Blah, blah, blah, went my blithe boyfriend. On and on and on he went. I nodded politely, smiled sweetly all the while not understanding a single syllable. He could have been telling me he was an axe murderer. He could have been telling me he fathered twenty children. He could have been proposing. He could have been trying to leave our newly forged union. I have no clue. I never said a word.
Some time ago I was standing in a field with bags of farm fresh vegetables heavy on each arm, talking to a friend. The bags of parsnips and potatoes pulled on my shoulders and strained my hands. My friend talked, talked, talked about her near-ending relationship; the break-up that was coming soon. Impending. Any day he would ask her to leave. He would leave her. My friend was convinced of this and anguished and excited all at once to share it. On and on and on she went, lamenting the wrongs that so outweighed the rights. The bags on my shoulders grew heavier and heavier. An arm fell asleep then two. Hands tingling, I never said a word.
A short while ago I was on the phone with a friend. Me in my rocking chair by the fire. She in a Rocky Mountain town possibly by hers. I could tell her news was urgent. Desperate to share she started in when suddenly and without warning the phone cut out. Silence. Silence that lasted long enough for her to come back and say, “I just don’t know what to do.” Somehow I had missed the meat of the misery. Our connection was cut just long enough for me to not understand a single word. Before I could tell her I couldn’t help her she launched into another tale; one that clearly hinged on the first. On and on and on she went. I let it go. I never learned of her dilemma. I never said a word.
I hate to bother you, but I can’t get a word in.
