Me and Blanche will soon see the end of our guaranteed weekly rendezvous for the simple reason that the unemployment system has just launched a new telephone-automated system. It’s no longer necessary to physically appear at their offices in LIC - now all we have to do is call a telephone number once a week in order to get our check.
We still stay in touch by phone and do the occasional lunch. Blanche even makes it to a couple of my gigs in the city. We’re both in a real busy phase now, and when one of us calls the other, we have to cram as many life details as we can into our conversation before one of us invariably says: I have to run, sweet-pea. I need to get to rehearsal. Or: I’m meeting my homies over in Brooklyn, Boo-Boo – let me go – I LIVE for you. And it’s all good.
At some point I fall in love with the tall, handsome fellow who plays bass for me. The relationship is so precious to me, I keep it pretty quiet in the early stages because I just don’t want to jinx it. But I do call Blanche to tell him that I can’t wait to introduce him to my new man – I just know they will get along.
He is beyond thrilled for me: “Gurl, I’m so JEALOUS. But I KNEW some man was going to grab you sooner than later. You are positively RIPE for the PLUCKING.”
Me (laughing): “How poetic, Blanche! And how about YOU? Are you in love?”
Blanche: “Hmmm…I wouldn’t say it’s TRUE LOVE, but I’m dating a sweetheart. Nothing heavy, nothing DRAMATIC. I just take it day by day, my love.”
Me: “Oh, good. Enjoy it! SO - we have to figure out our next get-together! I want you to meet Chris!”
Blanche: “I’ll meet him soon, don’t worry. But right now, I have to get my ass dressed and go meet MY boo.”
Me: “OK! I’ll let you go. I love you, Blanche.”
Blanche: “Love you, too, baby. NOW be a good girl and GO GET LAAAAAID.” I hear him still cracking himself up as he hangs up on me.
Some weeks go by before I actually speak to Blanche again. I am so consumed with my blossoming love life and my band that there aren’t enough hours in a day anymore. But me and Blanche do play ‘answering-machine-tag’ often enough, leaving one another our typical messages of devotion and promises to get together SOON.
One Friday afternoon, as I am entering my apartment with groceries, the surreal sound of Blanche’s voice talking away on my message machine greets me. I throw my bags on the sofa and lunge for the phone.
Me: “BLANCHE! Hello – it’s me - I’m here!! HI!”
Blanche: “Oh, hi, baby.”
Suddenly I feel hyper-alert. His voice sounds tired and anxious.
Me (sitting down next to my groceries): “Are you okay?”
Blanche: “Honey, I’m in St. Vincent’s. They just admitted me.”
Me: “What? St. Vincent’s? What’s going on, what’s the deal?”
Blanche: “I’m alright, honey, I’m alright. But I have to have some tests done. I might be here for a few days.”
Me: “Ok, well when can I come and see you? Can I come now?” Silence. I find I’m holding my breath: “Blanche? Are you there?”
I realize that of course he is there, and he is crying softly. I sit holding the receiver tightly to my face and I am crying, too but I won’t let him hear. I ask again: “When can I come?”
Blanche: “You really want to come?”
Me: “Listen, are you crazy? YES I want to come. When can I come.”
Blanche: “You can come tomorrow. Today things are a little overwhelming but I think you can come tomorrow.”
Me: “Ok, I’ll be there tomorrow, then.” What to say. “Don’t worry, Blanche. It’ll be okay.”
Blanche: “I know, bubby. Thank you.”
Me: “I love you.”
Blanche: “I love you, too.”
* * * * * * * *
aw crap... I dunno if i like where this is going... I am actually emotionally invested in this story to the point that I held my breath when he said he was in St. Vincents
ReplyDeleteox ~ * Don't worry, my Blanche is a fighter.
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