No cellphones allowed
While I was at the neighbourhood library with my son for an art workshop that my wife registered him, I was tempted to spend some time in their comfortable reading areas. Since the painting course was fifty minutes long, I was thinking to wait for him outside, in the car. But as soon as I saw a big green bean bag in the reading area, I took it as an open invitation to sit down and enjoy its comfort.
While I was adjusting my position on the bean bag, ensuring that each inch of my torso was perfectly fitting the bean, I heard my cell phone ringing. I looked at the screen and saw it was my old buddy Phan. He had moved couple of years back to Vancouver.
Although I never went to visit him and he did not return to Montreal, we still kept in touch. Each second month we would call each other and spend one hour on the phone, chatting about the things going on in our life.
I was about to answer his call when a red haired woman in her fifties came out of nowhere and asked me to turn off my cellphone. She pointed her big chubby fingers into the direction of a “no cell phones allowed” sign and invited me to step outside. I have to admit that she startled me. She definitely had a temper or perhaps she simply enjoyed the power. I always hated this type of women who love going on power trips. Especially female police officers! There’s nothing more annoying than a short woman carrying a gun!
Anyway, I was not there to fight with her, thus I stood up and headed towards the exit door. While I was crossing the hallway, I was able to see the red hair woman was watching from behind the counter. She was frowning and puffing as if her entire world collapsed. I ignored her and walked out.
As soon as I dialed Phan’s number and it rang one, he greeted me on a warm friendly tone. He was eager to inform me that he was planning to pass by Montreal the following week. He said that his brother was getting married and he was coming for the wedding. He added that he had already packed my canine truck restraints and he was bringing it with him.
That’s when I realized that I forgot to mention that we did not have Lucy, our dog, anymore. It must have been almost a month now since we had to put her to sleep. While he was talking to me, I was wondering how I forgot to tell him about Lucy.
By the time we finished our phone conversation, my son’s art class was done. While I was helping him to put his jacket on, I noted that the red hair woman was watching us. I waved my hand in her direction and wished a good day, although I knew it was too late for that.