Post by alison on Sept 30, 2006 17:45:16 GMT -5
"What shall I wear?" Si was, as usual, moaning at her down the phone. Alison shifted another paper across the desk and tapped the end of her pen on the surface of a clean sheet.
"Oh for God's sake, Si. I'm busy. How come you don't understand the concept of work? Why do you never seem to do anything except phone me a million times a day?" She could almost see Si stick out his lower lip in a pretend sulk.
"Fine," he said, in exactly the tone she would have expected. "I'll leave you to your work then shall I?"
Before Alison could say anything more she could hear a click and the vacant hum of the dial tone. She sighed wearily as an assistant carrying papers tapped on the glass of the office door, and punched out his number. Ignoring the assistant, she span on the office swivel chair to face away from him, knowing that the phone wouldn't even ring before Si picks it up.
"Have I ever told you how much I hate you?" he said on answering.
"No you don't. You love me. That's why I'm allowed to say these things to you."
"Oh, okay then," he grumbled. "But what are you wearing? No, no! Let me guess. Black trousers perhaps? A large black tent-like jumper to cover your bum? Black boots?"
"Well if you know so much, how come you're asking?"
"Al, you're not a student any more. Why do you dress like one? I keep offering to give you lessons, but you still insist on being as sartorially challenged as you ever were. What are we going to do with you?"
"Si, I'm just not interested in clothes, like you. I'm sorry. I wish it were different." Alison threw in a few sobs for good measure and Si laughed. "I'm a hopeless case," she continued, throwing caution to the winds and pretending to cry hysterically. "A lost cause."
"There, there," he soothed. "No such thing as a lost cause. I'll get you to an Armani if it kills me."
"Can I go now?" she asked in her usual exasperated tone, holding her head to one side to secure the receiver between her shoulder and her ear as she shifted back some papers, and wondering if she should signal to the Superintendent and come in to tell her in a loud voice that her three o'clock shift had begun. "Have you finished with me? I am busy, Si. Seriously."
"You're no fun," he said. "I'll come home at seven-thirty."
"Fine, see you la-" and she stopped with a sigh because he was already gone.
Alison smiled to herself for a few moments after she put the phone down because it was extraordinary that he managed to do that. He was supposed to be a film editor, although God knows exactly what that meant. However he did manage to find time to go after guys, but he was so desperate for commitment that anyone who even came close would be scared off within days.
"It's my chocolate mousse, isn't it?" he'd ask, humor doing a pretty bad job of hiding the pain. "I knew I'd over-whisked those egg whites."
"Either that or the fact that you slid the onion ring onto the third finger of his left hand after half an hour," Alison would reply, sighing.
As Alison turned back to the paperwork and ignored the tapping of the assistant again- sticking one finger up over her shoulder so it could be seen through the office door-, the phone rang once more. Her private line. Which meant it could only be one of three people. Her mother, Si, or Karen. She was always amazed Karen managed to call her so regularly but then again she was not entirely sure just what it is she does. She did know she worked in the city and is in charge of a team of ten people, and she designed things. But that was about it. The phone still rang and it could very well be Karen on the phone now, so she picked up, taking her chances.
"Now what do you want, Si?"
"Just to tell you that"- he paused dramatically- "Mr Gorgeous has phoned!"
"Great! So when's he coming over to break your heart? Oops, I mean, coming over for dinner?"
"And how do you know he isn't The One?"
"I'm sorry, Si. You're quite right. He might be. So you haven't invited him over then? Let me guess, he's taking you to some fantabulously swanky restaurant for dinner tomorrow night?"
"Nearly," he said brightly, "I'm cooking him a fantabulously swanky meal at my place tomorrow night."
"You're hopeless," she said.
"I know," he replied, but his voice was bubbling over with excitement.
"No chocolate mousse now," she warned sternly.
"I know, I know. And I've buried the onion rings in the back garden."
"Oh for God's sake, Si. I'm busy. How come you don't understand the concept of work? Why do you never seem to do anything except phone me a million times a day?" She could almost see Si stick out his lower lip in a pretend sulk.
"Fine," he said, in exactly the tone she would have expected. "I'll leave you to your work then shall I?"
Before Alison could say anything more she could hear a click and the vacant hum of the dial tone. She sighed wearily as an assistant carrying papers tapped on the glass of the office door, and punched out his number. Ignoring the assistant, she span on the office swivel chair to face away from him, knowing that the phone wouldn't even ring before Si picks it up.
"Have I ever told you how much I hate you?" he said on answering.
"No you don't. You love me. That's why I'm allowed to say these things to you."
"Oh, okay then," he grumbled. "But what are you wearing? No, no! Let me guess. Black trousers perhaps? A large black tent-like jumper to cover your bum? Black boots?"
"Well if you know so much, how come you're asking?"
"Al, you're not a student any more. Why do you dress like one? I keep offering to give you lessons, but you still insist on being as sartorially challenged as you ever were. What are we going to do with you?"
"Si, I'm just not interested in clothes, like you. I'm sorry. I wish it were different." Alison threw in a few sobs for good measure and Si laughed. "I'm a hopeless case," she continued, throwing caution to the winds and pretending to cry hysterically. "A lost cause."
"There, there," he soothed. "No such thing as a lost cause. I'll get you to an Armani if it kills me."
"Can I go now?" she asked in her usual exasperated tone, holding her head to one side to secure the receiver between her shoulder and her ear as she shifted back some papers, and wondering if she should signal to the Superintendent and come in to tell her in a loud voice that her three o'clock shift had begun. "Have you finished with me? I am busy, Si. Seriously."
"You're no fun," he said. "I'll come home at seven-thirty."
"Fine, see you la-" and she stopped with a sigh because he was already gone.
Alison smiled to herself for a few moments after she put the phone down because it was extraordinary that he managed to do that. He was supposed to be a film editor, although God knows exactly what that meant. However he did manage to find time to go after guys, but he was so desperate for commitment that anyone who even came close would be scared off within days.
"It's my chocolate mousse, isn't it?" he'd ask, humor doing a pretty bad job of hiding the pain. "I knew I'd over-whisked those egg whites."
"Either that or the fact that you slid the onion ring onto the third finger of his left hand after half an hour," Alison would reply, sighing.
As Alison turned back to the paperwork and ignored the tapping of the assistant again- sticking one finger up over her shoulder so it could be seen through the office door-, the phone rang once more. Her private line. Which meant it could only be one of three people. Her mother, Si, or Karen. She was always amazed Karen managed to call her so regularly but then again she was not entirely sure just what it is she does. She did know she worked in the city and is in charge of a team of ten people, and she designed things. But that was about it. The phone still rang and it could very well be Karen on the phone now, so she picked up, taking her chances.
"Now what do you want, Si?"
"Just to tell you that"- he paused dramatically- "Mr Gorgeous has phoned!"
"Great! So when's he coming over to break your heart? Oops, I mean, coming over for dinner?"
"And how do you know he isn't The One?"
"I'm sorry, Si. You're quite right. He might be. So you haven't invited him over then? Let me guess, he's taking you to some fantabulously swanky restaurant for dinner tomorrow night?"
"Nearly," he said brightly, "I'm cooking him a fantabulously swanky meal at my place tomorrow night."
"You're hopeless," she said.
"I know," he replied, but his voice was bubbling over with excitement.
"No chocolate mousse now," she warned sternly.
"I know, I know. And I've buried the onion rings in the back garden."