Friday - A Flash of Jazz Story




Joan called me on a Friday to let me know that she was finally going to art school. After years and years of allowing people to talk her out of it for a myriad of reasons, she finally bit the bullet, told everyone to f*** off, and applied. I sat on my couch in my apartment, listening to her sounds of joy as she described her classes and spoke of her hopeful attempts to make friends with her fellow students. I sighed a little too loudly, causing Joan to pause in mid-speech. What, she asked me. Huh, I replied, knowing damn well what I did. You just sighed, she added with a little force in her voice. I’m sorry . . . am I boring you or something? Joan, I wheedled, I’m fine, just go on with what you were talking about. No, she yelled, I wanna know right now what’s making you sigh like that, Paul. She fell silent and I held my breath. Is this . . . because of last week, she asked in a whisper. I felt my heart beat a little too fast; thank god she couldn’t hear it. Suddenly, she began to laugh and I was released from the hook. Oh Paul, she sighed in a dreamy way, I’m not angry with you for telling me that you loved me. Actually, I thought, that wasn’t the reason why I sighed but I remained silent. Look, she went on, I do care about you. Really. But, well, you’re just not my type, that’s all. And what’s your type, I replied a little heated, rising to the bait she threw at me without thinking. Obviously not a guy who enjoys playing the violin, drinking hot chocolate while watching a French film, and is an introvert. Why was I so angry with her? She had a right to love whomever she wanted to love. I wanted to cry, I wanted to let her know how her placing me in the friend zone hurt so badly. Yet, I had to buck up and proclaim happiness at her acceptance into art school. Paul, Joan finally said after several seconds of silence, why don’t you take some classes with me? You’re so talented with a paintbrush; you could teach me your ways on the side! Wouldn’t that be fun? I smiled, knowing that she wouldn’t see it, then hung up. I stared at my phone in my hands for literally two minutes, then got up and made myself a turkey sandwich. I knew she wouldn’t call me back. It just wasn’t in her to pick up such a loose thread.

(currently listening to the song A Mother’s Love by Gabriel Latchin Trio) 



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