Making The Call

I’m shaking as I dial the phone. My heart is racing and I can’t breathe. What will he say?

I go over in my head what I want to say, but I know once I start talking I’ll get it all wrong, like always, and he’ll get impatient. I need to stay calm, and not get emotional. I know that he’ll make me feel small and stupid, and even if he listens to me, he’ll twist my words and make me feel like I don’t know what I’m talking about. What will it cost me this time? How much will I have to give. It feels like that’s all I ever do – give and give and give.

I hate that I have to have this conversation. I hate that I need him to solve this. But most of all, I hate that I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anything he says. I don’t trust that he will really know what I need, how to fix this, but instead will just do whatever is easy for him, and then convince me that it’s the right thing. And I’ll go along with him, because I always do.

And things will be fine. For a while. I’ll be happy. For a while. And then something will happen, and we’ll be back to this. Me, needing him to fix it. Dependent. Unsure. I take another deep breath and exhale. And then I call the plumber.


4 Comments on “Making The Call”

  1. Imogen says:

    I’m lucky, my plumber is a fireman, and the fireman’s tradie network has to be good to it’s customers cos otherwise it gets back around to the fireman friend you have. Keeps the bastards honest!

  2. Mel Ryane says:

    So, in the end you were unplugged. Well done.

  3. WendyB says:

    I thought this was the funniest thing evah when I was a child:

  4. I do so love it when your theatrical side is in full dramatic gear, lol.

    The back of the hand on the forehead, the ’50’s scream-queen biting of the knuckle and turning away in horror – – –

    Such a picture you paint – the tension, the wind blowing your hair back as you reach for the phone and clutch a chair for support…….

    Terrifying, titillating, and oh-so-true.

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