I can’t believe he hasn’t called to congratulate me. Like this isn’t a huge deal. Like we didn’t spent practically every day together for weeks andweeks.
Fine.
If I have to be the grown-up, I will callhim.
If he doesn’t answer after two rings I will hangup.
He answers after one ring. “Congrats.”
“Same toyou.”
“You must berelieved.”
“Iam.”
“Good.”
“Obviously it was the hen scene that soldit.”
Apparently it doesn’t even warrant a laugh. I hear him blow some air out of his nostrils. “Obviously.”
“Kind of funny that New York investors basically bought it. You tell your familyyet?”
“Not yet. Not until the contract’s signed. But yeah.Hilarious.”
“Right. So are you going to celebrate oranything?”
“I’ll celebrate in Joshua Tree.You?”
“Yeah.Same.”
“Right. Because you’re in your writer’scave.”
“Right. I am…Is that why you haven’t calledme?”
“Sure.”
Sure? You totalasshole.
There is a long pause, wherein I wait for the other Scott Braddock to speak—the one who’s nice tome.
I might have to waitforever.
“So I just wanted to touch base with you about the rehearsal dinner thing or whatever we’re calling it. I mean, I’ve been told you’re the bestman.
“Right good yeah I was going to email you aboutthat.”
“Oh. Well you know maybe I should just send you an email, good idea.Bye.”
I hang up and throw my phoneon my bed. It doesn’t break or bounce or make noise. It’s veryunsatisfying.
Ican’t believeI calledhim.
I can’t believe he didn’t callme.
I can’t believe how cold he’sbeing.
I should have gone to his apartment and punched him in theface.
