When Distress Meets Distress - S01 E12

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When Distress Meets Distress - S01 E12

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 12

“Not until four,” he casually stated.

“Isn’t that a line from Spongebob?” I asked him, my

eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Is that what you do all day? Just sit around and

watch children’s television shows?” I snapped.

“And I think about you,” he replied. I narrowed my

eyes at the floor before my brother took the phone

out of my hands.

“Times up,” he pressed the phone against his ear. “If

he calls again, Van, I’m giving him your number.”

I had a feeling that my brother did that purposely so

that the idiot would call again. I glared at my brother.

“You wouldn’t,” I hissed.

“I didn’t catch your name,” my brother spoke,

earning the attention of my nosy mother. “Jonah,

you say?” my brother asked, smirking at me.

A moment later, my brother hung up the phone and

what do you know? About 10 seconds after, his

phone rang in his pocket and he gladly picked it up.

“Jonah? How unexpected.”

He then proceeded to deliver my number through

the phone. I just watched in horror while my mom

giggled girlishly. I tossed a glare her way and she

winked. My phone started to ring from my bed.

Your subtleties,

They strangle me,

I can’t explain myself at all.

And all the wants,

and all the needs,

All I don’t want to need at all.

The walls start breathing,

my mind’s unweaving,

Maybe its best you leave me alone,

a weight is lifted,

on this evening,

I give the final blow.

When darkness turns to light,

it ends tonight,

it ends tonight.

My ringtone, It Ends Tonight by The All American

Rejects, was blaring. I stared at my phone in horror

before I picked it up. “Savannah?”

“Eh, no, you’ve reached the pizza parlor!” I replied

changing my accent from American to British to

Italian mid-sentence. Let’s hope he’s as stupid as I

assume.

“You mean the one in Saint Geraldo’s place?” Jonah

asked, amusement in his tone.

“Yes, that is the one!” I continued. I tried to make all

of the words sound like the ones I hear from the

imitators on television; it was hard when you’re

saying a different range of words.

“This isn’t the number; we have the same area code.

Saint Geraldo’s is a town over,” he explained.

“Aren’t you a fat boy? You remember the pizza

place’s phone number?” I continued, earning a

chiding remark from my mother and a snort from

my brother. Jonah laughed, too. “I can picture you

now, sitting there with your many rolls squished into

a small computer desk as you scroll on Google

images, displaying pictures of pizza while you ingest

boxes of the meal at a time.”

After Jonah laughed, he replied. “I love that you’re

imagining me,” he told me.

“I’m not. Who said I was?” I replied, my eyes

frantically searching the room.