Chapter 8
“Bunny? Hi, it’s Emily. Guess what? I heard from the guy who wrote Great Bones. He didn’t answer any of my questions. He acted offended that I’d asked. He just about said, Butt out of my personal business, kid!”
“Oh!”
“Do you think it’s an imposter writing the letter? The book was so good, I thought G. R. Immerman would be really nice. How could a nasty person write a nice book?”
“Was the letter really that mean?”
“Wait a sec, I’ll read it to you. Ready?”
“Go.”
“‘Dear Emily, There are some rules for writing, I suppose, but most of them aren’t very helpful. My own rule is to know what I want to say, say it, and get the hell out. I don’t like bad actors who hang around smirking at the audience, waiting for the applause. Since I’m not a teacher, this may all be a crock and you can forget it. As for my personal life, that’s my business, not yours. Read my books. That’s all you need to know about me. G. R. Immerman.’”
“It wasn’t really mean, Em. It was more like he’s somebody’s grouchy uncle. He probably doesn’t mean to sound so brusque.”
“Maybe you’re right. But I’m disappointed. When I read his letter the first time, I decided I’m never going to read his books again!”
“Em, that’s dumb!”
“Bunny, I came to that conclusion myself. I was just going to tell you. Give me a chance to finish what I’m saying.”
“So sorry, Miss So Sensitive.”
“Bunny, that’s not very nice!”
“Well, you are.”
“I’m what?”
“Sensitive.”
“Bun-ny!”
“Em-ily!”
“Good-bye, Bunny. I don’t want to talk to you anymore right now.”
“Talk to you tomorrow, then.”
“Maybe.”
“Ha! You will. You will, you will! If you don’t talk to me, Emily, I’ll talk to you. Don’t hang up yet, Emily! You forgot to say good-bye to me.”
“Good-bye, Bunny!”
“Hel-lo! Who is this?”
“Excuse me, who do you want?”
“Hel-lo! Is this Emily? Emily Beth Boots? Hello! Can you guess who’s calling you?”
“I think I have a pretty good idea. Could this be Robertson Reo?”
“The one and only. But remember, you can call me Robbie. Or Rob, if you like that better. Or Reo. That’s my favorite. Emily Beth—”
“You know, Robertson, my name is Emily. Nobody calls me Emily Beth.”
“Just me?”
“Yes.”
“Great! I’m never going to stop calling you Emily Beth. It’s my special name for you. Well, Emily Beth, you want to know the point of this phone call? To hear your voice!”
“Okay, you’ve heard it. So we can hang up.”
“I like your sense of humor. It’s dry and witty. You say what you have to say. A woman of few words. I like that. Emily Beth, I got the idea to call you when I was reading something that reminded me of you.… Aren’t you going to ask me what I was reading?”
“I know you’re going to tell me whether I ask or not.”
“Emily Beth, you’re probably the prettiest girl I ever saw.”
“Where’d you read that, on the front page of the newspaper?”
“Ha! ha! ha! No, here’s what I read, and it was on page eight of the newspaper, third column over, in case you want to check it out. Eight hundred and forty-six songs were recorded last year in this country with the word love in the title.”
“That’s … very interesting.”
“Eight hundred and forty-six. It makes you think, doesn’t it?”
“What does it make you think?”
“It makes me think that when I write a song I definitely won’t put love in the title, because I don’t want to be like everyone else.”
“I don’t think you ever have to worry about being like everyone else, Robertson. That is one thing you definitely don’t have to worry about.”
“Well, thank you, Emily Beth. I consider that a compliment. And I would say this has been an excellent conversation. On a scale of one to ten—”
“You’d rate it a ten?”
“Absolutely. Wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t think I’d be that rash.”
“Ha! Ha! Ha!”
“Look, I have to go now. I have things to do. Good-bye, Robertson.”
“Good-bye, Emily Beth. When I write that song I’m going to put your name in the title.”
“Hello?”
“Emily, this is Dad.”
“Dad? Dad! Where are you?”
“Chicago. How are you, Emily?”
“I’m fine, Dad. I’m just so surprised! I didn’t expect it to be you. When the phone rang, I thought it would be one of my friends, Bunny or—”
“I’m sorry you didn’t think it would be me. I guess you have no reason to think it’s going to be me when the phone rings. I haven’t been the best about calling.”
“Oh, no, Dad. It’s not that—”
“No, no, I know, I’ve been remiss. Are you mad at me?”
“No, Dad!”
“Honey, I honestly think about you a lot. And I mean to call, I really do. Practically every day I think about it, and then something always happens.”
“I know. I understand.”
“Life is pretty hectic here, things come up all the time. The job is a lot of work. A lot of building going on. Every building has its contracts. Paperwork, paper, paper. The whole thing has me hopping, a lot of pressure, a lot of deadlines. I should have an assistant, but I’m not going to get it. Money’s too tight.”
“Do you have to pay for an assistant?”
“No, no, honey, I work for the city. They have to pay, but they won’t. You know how that is.… Tell me, how are you? Did I ask you that already? Emily, Chicago’s a great city. Big, big city. Very different experience from living in a small town. I wish you were here, honey. You’d get the big-city outlook. It would be good for you.”
“Dad, there was something I wanted to ask you—”
“So you’re doing top-notch work in school, aren’t you? I got your letter. I’m glad you wrote. Very glad. I know I should write, too, but it’s like the phone calls—I have the intention, and then something always gets in the way.”
“That’s okay, Dad. I know.”
“And I feel bad that I missed your birthday. I’m going to make it up to you. I’ve sent you some money, and I want you to spend it on nice things for yourself.”
“Thank you, Dad!”
“It’s not that much. I hope you can get something nice with it.”
“Dad, I was going to say—”
“Listen, sweetheart, Marcia wants to say hi to you.”
“Hello, Emily? This is Marcia. Your daddy and I were so happy to get your letter. He’s just so overwhelmed these days with work. I guess I don’t have to tell you. You know how he is, how hard he works. He just throws himself heart and soul into his job. Well, ’bye, Emily, it was great talking to you. Here’s your dad again, Emily, eager to talk to you.”
“Hello, honey. So were you telling me everything’s okay back there with you kids? Wilma and Chris are doing all right? They’re doing good in school?”
“Yes. You know how smart they are. Dad, there is just one thing—”
“I want to talk to the twins in a few minutes, honey. Time’s running out and I’m going to have to hang up.”
“It won’t take long, it’s about Mom—”
“Your mother? How is she? She’s still working at the hospital, isn’t she?”
“Yes. She’s at work right now.”
“You tell her I called you, okay?”
“I will.”
“Don’t forget, sweetheart.”
“I won’t.”
“Because she’s after me to pay more attention, and I want her to know that I called. I mean, she’s right! I don’t deny that, but I want her to know—”
“I’ll tell her you called, Dad. I won’t forget.”
“I know I can count on you. Maybe you should let me talk to Chris and Wilma now.”
“Sure, Dad, but what I wanted to say was—well you see, our landlord, Mr. Linaberry, lives downstairs, and Mom is always worrying about making him upset with noise or things like that. Well, but now he’s been coming up—”
“Sweetie, is this going to take a while?”
“Well, I just thought I’d explain the background—”
“Maybe you should write me about it. Or we can talk the next time I call. But let’s say goodbye now, sweetheart, and put on the twins.”
“Okay. ’Bye, Dad.”