A Ghost, A Cell Phone and Marinara Sauce

driving home from work and check my messages. Barbershop called. He’s in jail. His bail is $10,000 he ONLY needs $1000 or the pink slip to my car. If I can bring it down to the jail he’d love me forever. And this fucker is dead serious. Gives me his booking number and everything. Says he’ll see me soon. Are you fucking mad? I don’t even answer your calls. What makes you think I would give you a thousand dollars to get out of jail? I barely know you. And if something happened to me where I needed bail money, this guy wouldn’t even be in the top 100 list of people I would call for help. But there he is leaving me a message of how I’m the only person he’s got. Sorry dude, you ain’t got me. Get over yourself. Have a nice stay. I instantly call Dorothy to validate my stance on the situation. She too thinks he’s crazy. Case settled.

7:19 PM
I get home and make some dinner. I’m standing over a pot of spaghetti sauce, stirring away, when my cell phone rings. I pick it up and look at the caller ID and my heart drops. Then the phone drops. I nab it out of the air just as it starts to break plane on the marinara sauce. The name of the caller is Jas. I don’t answer. I don’t know what to do. I sit on the couch, phone on my lap and wait for the voicemail to ring. It doesn’t. Crap.

Seriously, this can’t be. Jas is dead. He’s been dead for two months. Last time I saw him he was lying on a chair, blood spilling from his mouth and his chest. Vagina Jane said there was no way to save him and she’s an E.M.T. Everyone told me he didn’t make it. Perhaps one of his friends or family has his cell phone and they accidentally called me. Weirder things have happened. If it were Jas he would’ve left a message.

7:31 PM
My phone rings. Again it says “Jas”. This time I answer. It’s him. I’m completely trip out. I light a smoke and sit on the floor, trying to breathe. “I thought you were dead…” He was in the hospital for weeks but he made it through even though they didn’t think he would. He says he thought about me while he was there. Said he couldn’t forget my eyes. Said he had to see them one more time.

I can barely respond to anything that is happening. I ask about the shooting and he assures me they caught the guy who did it. He says he’s been waiting a long time to see me. I apologize for the night at the club. He says it isn’t my fault. I can’t help but know that it is. He asks if he can finally get that date I promised him. I laugh. It’s the least I can do. We aim for Thursday night. I feel like I'm planning dinner with Elvis or J.F.K.

I hang up the phone and trip out. I chain smoke. My ass needs a drink. I head to the bar and hang out with Sassy and FB. FB asks me what’s wrong. I shrug and say “I got a call tonight from a guy I thought has been dead for two months. He wants to take me on a date.” My eyes well with tears that I dare not let escape. FB needs no further explanation. He just slides me another drink and squeezes my hand.