Initially, around lunchtime, as I negotiated the froth atop my latte, my telephone began jangling. I took it out my pocket, and looked at the screen, the text huge to suit my current vision. It was a familiar number, from Trinity Infinity, the female half of a couple I know in Hammersmith. I placed it back in my pocket, and let it ring on.
I was already allowing my mind to wander too close to the edge of the precipice, and this just opened up a panorama of ways to rationalise getting in touch. But I didn't.
Just now, early evening, I got a text. It read something like, 'Hi Benjamin, I hope you're ok and happy new year. I didn't want to keep calling in case you were staying away from certain people, places, and things. Please do get in touch when you get this message, it's urgent xx.'
Now, if someone didn't want to 'keep ringing', would they then text you later, making out its urgent? It doesn't piece together. What's more, if it was urgent, why did I have to ring up to find out why? And what's even more, well, I've had these kind of texts before from Trinity. In the past, I've rung back like a lapdog, and not once was it any more pressing than she wanted money or drugs - but on each occasion I'd ended up at her door. I was tempted to today, but haven't. If it was urgent, then I'm just going to have to go down as an inverted friend, not ringing when it was, but ringing every time when it wasn't.
Don't get me wrong, I've made up some horrendous stories to cover my using. I once told someone I'd been attacked, my phone had been stolen, and could they put maybe fifty quid in my bank? If I were a betting person, my guess would be today's text was no more important than all the others. The method of giving half a story, dangling suspense like fish-bait above the addict reptile on the riverbed, is old...give 'em a hint, they'll be hooked.
And that's all for today, I think. Need to go to sleep...it's urgent xx.
P.S. A song for you: All I Want For Christmas Is A Personality Disorder
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