Left In The Dark

Chapter 12

He was definitely a man of his word. He called me the next day. We spent that entire day talking on the phone. I mean the entireday. We talked about a whole bunch of nothing and a whole lot of everything at the same time. No subject was off limits: politics, sports, music, art, religion, sex. Everything. Shawn was so great at keeping the conversation rolling, unlike me. I was always horrible when talking on the phone. Always have been. It was one of the reasons I had preferred texting when I was younger. I just got too nervous for some reason. I would find myself having nothing to say which would leave uncomfortable gaps and long awkward pauses on the line. Though I think of myself as a creative person, I was never the type to think quickly on my feet or to be spontaneous. None of this was the case with Shawn, because he always had something to say. Always knew where to lead the dialogue and so seamlessly too. The topics flowed into each other easily. Dull moments were not afforded when talking to him. He was my opposite in the best possible way. At the end of our first ‘convo-date’ (he liked to call them) we hung up at 3:34AM. I was surprised when I audio checked my clock. It didn’t feel like 9 hours had passed.

This became our routine for the next two weeks. He would call at the same time every day. 6PM sharp. We’d talk about how each other’s day went and whatever else randomly came up on his mind. I was lying on my couch giggling at the story Shawn was retelling about what happened at the club last night.

“What?!” I asked in disbelief, stifling another laugh.

“Bey, don’t make me repeat it.” He said, groaning.

“Okay, okay. I just can’t believe she vomited all over you.” I shuddered at that mental image.

“Tell me about it. Next time, I’m just gonna hide out in the office and lock my door. If shit goes down, I’ll act like I wasn’t even there.” He joked.

I shook my head and agreed. I would do the same thing.

“Okay, you ready for my questions?” He asked.

“Shoot.” I replied, sitting up in preparation.

It’s a little game we played. Shawn called it 21 questions. The premise was the person asked the other person 21 rapid fire questions. The respondent had to answer them all as quickly as possible. No hesitations. He explained that our first response tends to be our truest one and it gets diluted and lost in our conscious effort to think about our answers before we say them. It was my turn.

“What’s the craziest thing you ever done?”

“Went streaking in college.” I shot.

“What?!” He asked shocked and now laughing.

“Is that one of your 21 question just now?” I teased.

“No, that doesn’t count.” He rebutted. “You gotta tell me the story.” He was cracking up.

“There’s nothing to tell.” I said trying not to laugh.

“Come on Bey.” He begged.

“It was a dare, that’s it!” I exclaimed. “Next question.”

That damn Kelly.

“What’s the worse pick-up line you ever heard?”

I busted out laughing at the first thing that popped into my head. I didn’t even think I would remember that. It was during my high school days.

“Oh my god, the worse thing I heard was…” I cleared my throat and tried to put on my best male voice. “Aye baby, it gotta be ya birffday wit all dat cake back dere.” I replied putting on my thickest country twang.