Mine is changing, too. The subject is sensitive and perhaps requires extra effort on my part.
“Please, don’t do that. Even if you know it will upset me or make me burst into tears, like the other day in your office.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Me too.” He laughs softly, and I also find myself smiling on the phone. I sigh, suddenly tired, and take off my glasses. I massage my eyes with my fingers, hoping to ease the effects of this exhausting day.
“Are you OK?” He asks me from the other end of the line.
“Hmm?”
“You seem really tired.”
“It’s been a hell of a day.”
“You shouldn’t be wasting your time with me; you should be resting.”
“I’m not wasting my time.”
“It’s not good for you to bring work home.”
“I don’t want to fall behind.”
“Don’t you have… er… Someone waiting for you?”
“No,” I reply dryly.
“I understand.”
This phone call was longer than I expected. And more informal than it should have been.
“You are at work. I don’t want to keep you any longer.”
“Don’t worry. I am perfectly replaceable.”
“Replaceable?” I ask, now curious.
“I’m just one of the bartenders. I don’t do shows.”
“Shows?”
He barely laughs. “I’m not a drag.”
“Oh… Is it that kind of club?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t mean to imply…” I don’t even know why I’m defending myself. “I’ve never been there. I don’t know what kind of club it is.”
“Don’t worry, it always has that effect on people.”
“You could lie.”
“Nah, it’s not my style.”
“You might have to.”
“Mmm… Is it necessary?”
