Nursing a wound part 2
“Tim, honey?”
I lift my face from the pillow. “Yeah?”
Lisa’s staring at me with that worried look again, she probably thinks I’m suicidal or something?
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just had a bad day at work.”
“What happened?”
“Danny was being an asshole. I asked him to make a few tweaks on the songs and he just blew up at me for no reason.”
“What’d you do?”
“I just made him leave, but I kept his demos.”
She strokes my hair and dons that gentle coo I always love: “I’m sorry. I wish there was a way I could help. You gonna call him up or something?”
“Not likely, he seemed too pissed off.”
“Hm. You want a drink?”
“Nah. I just want to sleep.”
She kisses me on the top of my head. “All right, I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”
When she leaves, I walk to the giant window that faces L.A. It feels like I’m back in Burbank, trapped in my room and alone. Usually, I get my work done best when I’m by myself, but not this time. I just lost one of the most important people to enter my life. Hell, he is the most important person in my life. He was the one guy who actually understood what I was about. He, too, hated this plastic hellhole where creativity goes to die, but together, we were unstoppable. We were the weird kids in high school who triumphed over the assholes who made fun of our passion for graveyards and Peter Lorre. I remember the night I went to his house when he was scoring Pee Wee’s Big Adventure. We talked about childhood memories and bitched about our former jobs over beers and when we were drunk enough, we made stupid little songs on his synthesizer. I don’t remember any details about that night, but I will carry it to my grave as the highlight of my life.
Maybe I should call him just to see. Ah hell, he’s still probably pissed- he always had a short fuse when he was under stress. I need a drink. Yeah, that’ll get my confidence up.
“Hey Lisa?” I call, heading for the kitchen.
“Yeah?”
“We got any wine or something?”
“There’s some left in the fridge, I think. Isn’t it kind of early for alcohol? It’s only 2:00.”
I sigh. “Not for me.”
She hesitates for a minute. “All right, but I’m watching you.”
“Right.”
I take a strong sip and blink. God, that’s good, I feel better already. Know what? I’ll call him right now, just to see if he’s okay. I mean, the phone’s right in front of me, might as well put it to good use. My hand trembles, but I manage to grip it and dial with shaking fingers.
The faint rings echo through my brain like some kind of death rattle. Shit, he probably isn’t even home. Or he’s asleep. God, I’m never good with answering machines, I always get tongue tied. Finally, the ringing stops. I cough and begin, “Hello? Danny? It’s_”
Hello, this is the Thompson residence, I’m sorry, but we can’t make it to the phone right now. Leave a message after the beep.
Fuck! I swallow my drying spit and clear my throat. “Hi Danny, this is Tim. I was calling to wonder if you’re feeling all right after what happened yesterday. Call me back when you have the chance.” I hang up and wipe my brow.
Lisa looks up from her magazine. “Did you get the answering machine?”
I nod. “Yeah, how do you think I did?”
She smiles. “You’re getting better at the answering machine.”
So what do I do now? They’re gonna release the tracks as is. I hope Danny’s okay with that, but it probably doesn’t matter: he doesn’t care about the movie anymore, really. Good thing too, he could use a break.