So here we go. The promised story. Enjoy.
Her voice droned on and on, relentlessly forcing him to feign interest for a subject that she found unceasingly conversational. Herself. All she wanted to talk about was herself. How her day was, what happened, how that made her feel, and was she right to feel that way? Her new shoes, her overtime pay in her check, the shoes she wanted to spend it on. . .on and on and on and on.
I really don't care, he thought. Not about her or how she feels. I'm just sitting here, wasting my time and hers. I should hang up.
He pressed the end button and dropped the phone in disgust. "What time is it?" he said to himself. His eyes struggled to focus on the clock, but he couldn't get them to work. His glasses. He needed his glasses.
Suddenly the phone rang. "Take a hint! I hung up on you!" he shouted.
He sat upright. Wait. I don't care? I feel as if I don't care about more than just her. What all don't I care about anymore?
There was a bowl of Cheetos sitting on his bed. Do I care about this room? He looked hard at the bowl, and then picked it up and flung against the wall. I guess not.
The phone rang again. There was an orange spot on the wall now. But he didn't care. An unknown freedom swept over him as a smile crept onto his face. This is different, he thought. I wonde just how much I don't care, how much. . .freedom do I have now that I don't care. . .or whether or not this is truly freedom.
"I have to find out the extent of this sudden lack of concern. As long as I can remember, I've always believed that such a dismissal wouldn't result in freedom. But here I am. I feel free."
He got up from his bed, and grabbing his phone, he dialed his last missed call.
As he listened to the ring, he started pulling on his jeans.
"Hey its. . ."
"Oh great its you! We must have gotten disconnected somehow. I figured maybe your phone died or you went out of ser. . ."
"No, I hung up on you."
"I said, I hung up on you."
". . ."
"Don't sound so surprised. In fact, don't sound anything. I rather enjoy it when you're quiet. Which brings me to the reason of my call. The way I see it, I'll be able to enjoy a lifetime of peace and quiet, just as long as you're not anywhere near that lifetime to taint it with your epiphany of words. So do me a favor. Don't call me. . ."
"What? How can you say that? We've been together for a year now, and I don't think. . ."
"No, no you don't think. That's what I'm trying to say. You don't think. You don't know anything but yourself. That's all you talk about. And its not even deep thoughts about yourself, its all shallow, mindless. . ."
"That's what you think? That I'm shallow, that I'm mindless?" Her voice was starting to crack, and he could just see her face, tears streaming out her eyes, as he was slowly breaking her heart. He waited to see if he felt anything.
"That's what I think. You're pathetically shallow, you have no purpose in life besides being a trophy for some old "gentleman" who will pamper you and do his best not to be around you enough to have to listen to your useless blathering."
He could hear her sobbing now.
"Don't call me again. Ever. I hate you."
"Don't worry, you disgust me. Oh, and as far as you hating me, well, I don't care. Be sure to stay alive long enough to give me my stuff back."
The line disconnected.
Something's not right, he thought. I should be hurt. I just dumped the girl I swore I would marry, the girl who I just devoted a year of my life to, hoping to love her, and I don't feel anything. I just. . .don't. . .care.
"Amazing. I have no emotions. I wish I'd discovered that before. Before I spent all that money on dinners, and gifts, and all those boring two month anniversary dinners. Two month anniversary. Its ridiculous. An anniversary is an annual celebration, anyway."
His shirt in place, his eyes wondered outside. His car. Did he care about that?
"Let's go see," he muttered as he grabbed his keys in eagerness.
Shocking no? Oh don't worry, its gets worse. Of course, you might not like it. Well guess what? I don't care.