“Hi,” I croaked.
“Were you sleeping? Why don’t you leave your phone on silent when you sleep?”
I’ve explained so many times that I actually don’t mind when he wakes me up but he hasn’t grasped the concept yet. I think he just feels bad waking me up. But when the person you most want to talk to is three hours behind, you learn to be okay with the being-woken-up thing. Sometimes those are the best conversations of all.
Around 4:15 there was a lull in conversation and he yawned. “It’s probably pretty late, right?” I asked, no clock in the vicinity to check. “I should probably sleep.”
“But we’re almost at the two hour mark, you can’t leave now.”
“Two hours?! We’ve been talking for two hours?!” My mind jumped back, tried to remember what exactly we had even been talking about. It began with movies, metamorphosed into relationships and marriage, swung around to careers, and then looped back to movies. We had disagreed on the quality of the Sherlock Holmes movie, agreed that relationships are only successful when both parties have their own lives, and disagreed again on the benefits of working for The Man.
Somewhere in there he told me he was so impressed by my food blog. “I think you have so much potential,” he said.
Around 5 in the morning I finally went to sleep with my contented smile pressed into the pillow. That phone call was worth more than all the Gchat conversations in the world.