Rough drafts

It took hours for me to get up the nerve to call Grace. It was about seven when I finally hit DIAL on my cell phone. One ring...two...three...then a half dial. Oh, crap. Voice mail.

I've noticed a small trend with women with bad luck with men. They tend to give their number instead of their name on their outgoing message. I'm sure this message was recorded months ago, but i have a feeling I was kind of a reason for the level of mistrust it takes to not even make your personal message, well, personal. I had but a few precious seconds to think about what I want to say.

I can't remember exactly what I said at first. All I know is it was about ninety percent um's and er's. I ran out the time, feeling like a total idiot. Only then, an answer to my prayers. A technical sounding woman's voice said, "If you'd like to review your message, press one. If you'd like to change your message, press two..."

TTTTTTTTWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOO!!!!!

"When finished with your message press pound. BEEP!"

I left a slightly better, more coherant message. I was doing fine until I felt myself trailing off. I wasn't making any sense. POUND!

"If you'd like to-"

TWO!

I took a deep breath, but I exhaled too deeply after the beep... oh, great. Now I'm a heavy breather.

POUND, TWO, BEEP.

"Um..."

SHIT!!! POUND, TWO, BEEP.

"Hi, Grace...it's Deck. I got your message. Sorry, I was out of town and didn't get your message until this morning..." I hesitated to hit pound. "Anyway, give me a call...I'm free pretty much anytime. Bye." Pound.

I immediately second-guessed (or fifth-guessed at this point). But then, I figured I could be a chicken shit about this all night, and she won't get this message until at least the morning. I bit the bullet and hung up. What I said is what I said.

The ball's in her court. We'll see...