Caring for David

‘You did what?’
‘I already told you, Andy. Mr Thomas rang while you were gone. He said your Friday meeting is re-arranged. I told him you didn’t really want the job anyway. That’s what you said to me. I remember what you said, and I got every word right. You said, ‘If he thinks I’m going to do that then he can stick his job where…’
‘Okay, okay. I remember what I said. I just didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to tell anyone. Let alone my boss. My new boss. The same boss who’s going to be heading my six-week probation interview on Friday.’
‘I’m not stupid. Don’t call me stupid.’
I closed my eyes. Inhaled deeply through my nose as flashing lights behind my eyelids glowed red, yellow, orange. I tried to remember my promise to our mother.
‘You’re not stupid. And I’m sorry for saying that.’
‘Are you angry with me?’
‘No David, I’m not angry. I’m wondering why you picked up my phone. You don’t usually answer my phone.’
‘You said make yourself at home. I always answer the phone at home. I wrote down what he said so I wouldn’t forget. I know sometimes I forget what people say. But I didn’t. I wrote it all down, like you said I should. Right away.
‘What did he say.’
David checked his notes.
‘He said, ‘Andrew, is that you Andrew? Who the hell is this?’
‘No. I mean what did he say after telling him that ‘I didn’t want the job anyway’.’
‘Ummm…,’ he slowly turned over several pages; his huge writing was like a young child’s.
‘I think he said, ‘go figure’, I wasn’t sure I heard that word right.’
 ‘And?’
‘And then he said to tell you he’d see you first thing Monday…’

 © Helen Northey