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 Tales of Whisper GapStories from the small town of Whisper Gap where one life, one tale invariably reaches out to touch the next. by Jo Janoski.
As the clock inched closer, her hands quickened, her imagination raced. She did the job of switching calls with verve and intensity, click, click, clicking them away one by one with "Acme Finance" and "One Moment Please" finality propelled by thoughts of the approaching magic hour. She was seeking the jackpot, his call. Any ring of the phone could be it, his tone, his romantic aura, a cloudless ghost that emanated, surrounded her, incorporating the lady's soul into itself, engulfing, snatching, her heart. And then... "Hello, my sweet!" Love flooded through her veins in response to his voice, pumping magic through her entire being. The real world faded, and a new one rushed in, bursting with rainbow colors and studded with stars. "Mr. Dupre!" "Yes, my dear! How are you this morning?" Eleanor blushed, her cheeks burning with fire from the heat. Mr. Dupre's voice resonated soft and deep. It was sexy and never failed to get her riled up. "My dear?" It was him again. She'd been so struck by his voice an answer to the original query stalled in her throat. "Oh, I'm here, Mr. Dupre!" "How are you this morning, darling!" She was certain he must be the sexiest man on earth. "Oh, I'm wonderful, Mr. Dupre, especially now that you have called." The words escaped before she could stop them. Her eye lashes fluttered and her cheeks burned. "My goodness, you must think I'm a flirt." "Certainly not, my dear. You are simply speaking from the heart." "Mr. Dupre, I was wondering if perhaps sometime...anytime...we could meet for lunch." There, she'd said it. Her body iced in fear and all breathing curtailed as she waited. A silence gathered in the phone line. Eleanor's heart stopped. Had she frightened him? "I'm sorry. I don't think it's possible." "Oh." Her world crashed. She felt light-headed. She'd made a first-class fool of herself. How forward, how stupid, how could she have done this? A thought hit her. He was a gentleman. Perhaps he felt it was his place to ask, not hers. Oh, he must think her a low class idiot. "I'm sorry. I'm just anxious to meet you," she murmured. "We've met on this phone, and isn't it lovely?" He chuckled. "Yes, it is very lovely. I love when you call." "And I will call you, my dear, often and with great enthusiasm." Eleanor's heart swirled. She hadn't killed it; he still liked her. He still intended to call. "And I shall look forward to every time," she purred. "Now please transfer me to my friend in Claims." "Certainly, Mr. Dupre!" Before Claims could pick up, Mr. Dupre hung up the phone...just like every day. He had no friend in Claims. He thought of calling Eleanor back to soothe her injured soul. But he had no more money. His fingers probed the empty pocket of his shabby pants. No luck. He scratched his whiskered, dirty chin, following with a lonely sigh, only to be interrupted by the local beat cop. "Dupre! Get outta that phone booth or I'll run you in!" Officer Kelly meant business. "What are you doing in there, looking for loose change again? GET OUT!" Dupre rushed out as fast as his homeless
feet could take him. With a tip of his filthy hat to the officer,
he dashed off toward the bakery, where they gave away day-old
bread every Thursday at 12:15. Jo Janoski is a poet, author, and photographer from Pittsburgh, PA. Send Jo a message either directly or using
the Word Catalyst feedback form. For more from Jo visit the
Word Catalyst archives or her online
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