Staring.
Heavy eyelids. The cellphone screen remained blank, outside of the usual icons. Time had changed, rolling over slowly minute to minute. There was nothing else. No notifications. No text messages. No phone calls.
A watched pot never boils.
I first heard that in the summer of my twelfth year on a trip to my aunt's house. I stared out the window of her cozy kitchen, glancing over stacked dirty dishes and hovering flies, waiting for the arrival of my cousins. Once a year there were visits with the cousins -- along with my aunts and uncles -- and the excitement brewed inside me.
The energy I carried was nervous bundle of anxiety. Why am I nervous? I'm the older cousin. I'm the cooler one who they look up to.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Years later. High school (or shortly after). I had stood right there in the parking lot when they were talking about going golfing or to a movie or simply cruising the strip. They said they'd call.
Had I made it all up in my head? Had they only said that because I stood next to them?
At home. More waiting. The television was on but I paid no attention to the program. I was on the couch. only feet away from the phone, ready to answer it on the first ring.
Nothing. The minutes tick by. A watched pot never boils.
And so I slept. Awaking an hour later to receive no such call. So I spend the afternoon putting my best thoughts forward, only to hear the following day of all the fun that was had.
Tick, tick, tick.
Sounds in my head because, well, a cellphone doesn't tick like a watch used to do. I double check my text, doubting it will be the case but hoping maybe it didn't send.
It did. "What are you up to? Wanna hang?"
I wasn't wrong in assuming they did. We'd done so for months now; a blur of alcohol, laughs, and broken candles. Swimming in lakes, walking in parks, and one eventful trip into the depths of...
The mind no longer recollects. Selective forgetfulness has its upsides. Candles are blown out, music is stopped and the minutes continue to slip by. My grip on the cellphone tightens, sweat pools on the palm. Eyes are wide open and the mind does not ever close.
A watched pot never boils.
Comments