Young Writers Society

At 5:30, my alarm rings, and at 5:37 I find it in me to roll out of bed. I make two coffees and then climb carefully out of my window to watch the sun rise. The morning-chilled air soaks into my hoodie as I pick my way across the jutting brick roof of my garage. I sit there for a bit, my legs dangling over the precipice. It’s a bit of a wait- I miscalculated the time- but it’s worth it because this morning’s a stunner. The sun is a brilliant vermillion, and the air around it shimmers with gold and pale pink. Slowly, the sky shifts from night-dark to the blue of day, and I watch the stars slowly recede. I can feel the tentative sunlight begin to warm my face.

After a few seconds of soaking it in, my battered little flip phone starts to ring. I pick it up and your airy voice comes through my speaker. “Hello. This is the Elephant Service.” This is one of our inside jokes, but I don’t remember its origin. Something about pachyderms in the mail, I guess.

“Two, please,” I answer. There is a brief pause, and then you come back on.

“Please state the code word.”

“Curmudgeon,” I answer without skipping a beat.

“Bailey, darling, how I’ve missed you!” I smile. It’s been a while.

“Hello, Amelia. So. How have you been?” I start our conversation with something simple.

“Better.” I hear a little hesitation in your voice. “People have sort of gotten used to the fact that I’m here to stay.”

My legs swing back and forth, occasionally hitting the side of the garage. “...I haven’t.”

You sigh. “I know. I miss you.” We’re silent for a bit.

“I made you a coffee,” I offer.

“Lovely. I’m in dire need of caffeine.”

“Wait a sec. I’ll try it for you.” I take sip. It’s a little weak, but still passable.

“So? How do I like it?”

“You love it. You think it’s the best coffee you’ve ever tasted.”

“I always do.”

“How’s the sunrise over at your place?”

“Fantastic. There are some little wispy clouds, and the sky’s turning them pink. What are you wearing right now?”

If it wasn’t you, I would be offended by this question, but I know it’s just a part of our game. “A pair of gold lame hammer pants and a paper hospital gown with a purple and red-checked double-breasted waistcoat.”

“How do you always manage to look so put-together? I just threw on my old Gregorian monk shroud.”

“What can I say? It’s a talent. So… how are things in Sallesbury?”

“Fine, I guess. There aren’t as many trees here.”

“I would gladly give you some of mine, but they’re rather attached to their current spot.” You chuckle a little, and then we’re quiet for a bit.

“Man, I really am enjoying this coffee,” you say. “You put your soul into it, I can tell.” I smile.

“You have good taste, sir; It is truly one of my finer works. Actually, I have to go soon. I have schooling to attend, and you know how slow I am in the mornings.”

You put on a dramatic British accent, and I can almost imagine you sweeping around your room making theatrical hand gestures. “Believe me when I say, fair one, that there is no distance great enough to keep us apart for long.”

I adopt my own stage voice. “Oh glorious one, I eagerly await our next meet.” My voice returns to normal. “Hey, before I go, will you play me something?” I hear you set the phone down, and then a soft,  melancholy tune. I listen for a few minutes before hanging up.

It’s a few weeks before we talk again. Since the last call, we’ve had a few stilted text conversations, but never anything of length. You’re almost never up in the mornings anymore, but today I got through.

“Amelia?”

“Hello, this is the Elephant Service.”

“Two, please.”

“Please state the code word.”

“Hazelnut.”

“Salutations, Bailey!”

“Amelia, love.”

“What enrobes you this fine morning?”

I laugh affectedly. “Oh, this old thing? Just a scuba suit and my parrot-feather headdress.” I’m actually wearing jeans and a big grey sweater.

“I’m afraid I best you this time. I just donned my new lime green poncho and John-Lennon inspired spectacles.” Knowing you, that might not be far from the truth.

“Well, there is clearly no contest.” I lie down on the roof, smiling.

“Bailey, baby, I’ve missed you.”

“I know, it’s been forever and a day, hasn’t it?”

“I’m afraid that’s my fault. I’ve been crazy busy lately. I joined drama club. Did you make me a coffee?”

“I most certainly did. You joined drama club? That’s awesome!” I was a little worried about you when you moved. There’s something about you that tends to make people  little uncomfortable.

“Yep. It’s a bit late in the year, but I’m thinking of going for a major role in the next production. At least, that’s what David wants me to do.”

Huh? “...Who’s David?”

“Oh! Oh yeah. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Didn’t see that one coming.

“You’re not mad, are you?”

I quickly compose myself. “Mad? Of course not! This is great! When did you guys get together?”

“A few weeks ago. Oh, he’s great, Bailey. You’d love him.”

“Well, describe him! Paint a glorious watercolor David in my mind.” You ramble on for a few minutes about David, and I have to admit, he sounds wonderful. Eventually, we both have to go, so you play me a short reel on your piano, something you learned in music class. It’s flawlessly played (of course it is, it’s you), but a lot different from what I normally hear.

Two months go by with no communication except a short call on my birthday. Finally, I manage to get you at a time when you can talk.

“Hello, this is the Elephant Service.”

“Two, please.”

“Please state the code word.” It’s been so long that I can’t remember what the code word was.

“... Amelia, why don’t you ever call me anymore?” A pause.

“I’ve just been so busy, darling. You know how it is.”

Actually, I don’t know how it is. My life has been composed of school, reading and talking to you. “Yeah, I know, you have drama club and David, but I wish you would make a little more effort.” I’ve been lonely without you.

“Effort? Bailey, dear, I’m swamped! I have so much stuff to do. I can’t just sit around and wait for the phone like you do.”

“What?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I have, well, a life here. I have other priorities now.”

“Are you saying I don’t have a life?” I try to keep my voice composed. Your coffee sits on the roof next to me, slowly getting cold.

“God, Bailey, you’re not listening! I’m just saying that I’ve made commitments now. Maybe it’s time you make a few of your own.”

…

“Bailey?”

“Goodbye, Amelia.” I hang up.

A few minutes later, with my face buried in my hands, I realize that I didn’t hear your piano at all.

It’s been a few years since you’ve called me. My flip phone is long gone, and I’ve moved away from the town with the trees and my brick house with the sunrise. I used to get up in the morning and have that feeling, the one you get when you’ve lost something important, but I like to think that I’ve gotten over it now.

I have a Facebook account, and recently I thought to look you up. You have a new boyfriend now, and you once had a starring role in the Sallesbury High play. You’re a sophomore the University of Toronto.

I’ve joined a writing group, and we were assigned to write about someone that we miss. I immediately thought of you.

I’m not so lonely now. I have people who care about me, and I care about them, and I’ve found someone I want to share my life with, for the time being. It’s good, and maybe it’s better than what I had with you, but I guess I’ll always miss the Elephant Service, and the sound of your piano.