Green Grass

The phone is ringing from somewhere I can't quite place, and I rub my bleary eyes from sleep. Groaning, I reach out for my small alarm clock and grab it, squinting at the time which I can't quite make out. Next, I fumble for the telephone receiver and rasp a sleepy hello? into it.

"Rachelle? Sorry it's so early. I wanted to catch you before the day started," I attempt to place the long-distance voice, "Hello? Rachelle, are you there? It's Tommy." I'm taken by surprise more by the fact that I didn't recognize his voice than by his calling.

"Tommy, hi. Long time," I had tried to keep in touch, but he had made himself hard to reach. Now, this late, at this awful time of morning, does he expect me to be sociable?

"I'm sorry it's been too long... I've been, uhm, thinking about you lately. I miss you Rachelle. Do you think maybe we could catch up? There's somebody I think you should meet. You'll like him a lot."

"Alright," I never could outright say no to him, especially in one of his apologetic moods, "be at my place in an hour, bring your friend."

"Sounds good, I'll see you soo--" I hang up. He knows how much I hate drawn-out goodbyes, however temporary they may turn out to be.

As is his nature, there is a knock on my door an hour and a half later. I swing open the door to two faces, one more unfamiliar than the other, but neither quite well-known anymore.

"Tommy, you look... different. Good, but different. Come inside," I observe him up and down and note the changes. His hair, crammed under a knit hat, has grown tousled and longer, and there is a slight unshaven shadow around his jaw; his standard-issue work coat is replaced with a weathered, khaki-toned blazer, patched on each of the elbows. "You look happy."

He holds me firmly at arms' length, observing in detail the same way I did to him. "You look tired; are you alright?"

"I am tired," I respond.

He pecks me on each cheek, then gestures towards the similarly-habited man with him. "Rachelle, this is Antony, I work with him. He's... like us, if you know what I mean?"

I clasp the stranger's hand, offering a half-smile and mumbled greeting, his response to this being nearly the same. The three of us stand there in silence for a drawn-out moment, before I think to have the courtesy to sit them down in my cramped dwelling. They oblige, making quiet conversation as I butter a few pieces of toast for a meagre breakfast.

"So, what's the catch? To what do I owe this visit?" I take a seat across from Tommy.

"You've grown colder," he observes.

"You've grown scarcer; it's been over a month. To what do I owe this visit?" I emphasize. Tommy shifts uncomfortably for a moment, before getting a none-too-subtle kick from his friend.

"We do a radio show." I nod slowly. He gets another kick. "Come out tonight, during our broadcast... please. We could use the help, just come see it?" I nod again.

"Don't get me in too deep, be back here to get me before you go on the air." On that note, I stand up and they follow suit. I say a brief don't be late again, and shut the door to their backs with a sigh.

What am I getting myself into, and why? It's true after all: I never really could outright say no to him... especially in one of his apologetic moods.