Judith

 

 "Who cares about the Rolling Stones?" Judith said.



   "Hi, honey!" 
   "Honey? Who's this?" 
   "Oh, that's just like you, sweetheart. Here, take a guess. One time, two times, three times. Who's that, sweetness? Tell me you don't know and I'll scream." 
    "Judith?" 
    "Oh Gil, why do you always do that to me on the phone. You knew it was me. You did now, didn't you?" 
    "Judith, you've got no idea what it's like here. We've been swamped. I've had to forget about a lot of things. Forgive me. I'll name a suite of rooms after you one day." 
    "Call it whatever you want. Just so long as I can stay there. Listen!  I'll pop out in an hour or so, and let's play 'Remember', okay?" 
    "Remember? Remember what?" 
    "Now you just stop that! You remember what, and where, and all the rest. Just tell them to let me in, sugar, and I'll be there before you can count 'one-two-three...'" 
    "Hold on, Judith. I mean... what you say... I'm all for it too, God knows. But not here... I just work here now. Comprendo?
    "Baby, I can't stand it. It's been too long. Just put my little name on the list down at the bottom of the road where the cops are. I won't screw things up... promise! Hey, out behind the barn if you want... I don't care. But listen, Gil,  it's been too long. What do you want me to do? How much plainer can I be?" 
    "You're coming across loud and clear, Judith. It's not that. But my hands are tied. And I'm not talking about those little bits of velvet of yours. You know that it's the Rolling Stones who are here, don't you?" 
    "Who cares about the Rolling Stones?" Judith said. 
    "Yeah," I said. "Sometimes I feel that way too." 
    "Okay," Judith said. "Have it your way. Call me tomorrow, and maybe we'll have some lunch, or something. But what I really want to do is to come out there now and you-know-what." 
    "Yeah... I know what. Get to see the Rolling Stones." 
    "Oh Gil, that's not it at all, and you know it!" 
    Judith now began to sniffle a bit on the phone, and from that I was to infer that she was upset at what I'd just said, and that it was really me she wanted to see, and not Mick Jagger or Keith Richards. 
    I wasn't fooled though. My feelings were hurt instead. She was nuts about me once. Once, before the Rolling Stones came. 
    It was never three times, either.

 

 


 All original material copyright © Gilbert Scott Markle. All rights reserved.