Chapter 2: The Call
Knox Overstreet used to remember the days when he would wake up like he was writing his own story. He would open his eyes and drink in everything new about his surroundings, even if there was nothing new at all. He would look out the window to see if it was raining, or if it was sunny... or if it was overcast. If the ground was wet with an evening shower, or dry, showing him that a a hot day was in store for him. He would wake up exhausted, or sometimes he would think, "Well, today's not so bad." Sometimes he would just wake up in a bad mood... or he'd wake up crying from a bad dream. Whatever had happened, it was a million times better than how waking up was now. Now, all he could see about his life was "Waking up." He opened his eyes, and that was it. He no longer cared whether it was sunny or rainy... whether it was hot or cold. He would wear the same clothes to work anyway, so what did it really matter anyhow? However, in the past few days, it hadn't just been "waking up". It had been "waking up alone." Chris worked downtown for a little newspaper that ran for their little town. It didn't pay much, but Knox could suffice for the both of them. Most of the time, he woke up alone. Christ was never there. Her bed was neatly made up on her side. The covers were tucked in, the sheets lay cold (signaling she had been gone for quite some time) and the little forget-me-not blue pillow lay neatly placed in front of the large white pillow. It was on these days, which, unfortunately, were the majority of the days, that Knox felt truly alone.
And so, it was on that dull, gray Tuesday that Knox Overstreet "woke up".
He climbed out of bed (not caring), put on his coat and tie (not caring), and ate breakfast (still not caring). He was five feet away from the little coatrack that sat by the door, which held his hat and overcoat, when the phone rang.
Now Knox knew that it was very odd for anyone to be calling this early, but he figured that because it was odd, it was either something very good or very bad. So, he walked briskly to the phone and picked it up.
"Knox Overstreet," he said politely.
"Knox?"
"Yes?"
The voice... oh that voice... Knox had heard it before. It was achingly familiar, as though he had heard it too much, and yet he was yearning to hear it again, just so he could pinpoint it, name it, and then tell it to go away and stop calling him. But the weird feeling was, was that he knew that he hadn't heard this voice in quite some time, and it gave him a slightly melancholy feel. It was not a nice feeling overall, and he was now feeling rather regretful that he had picked up the phone at all.
"Knoxious?"
And then it hit him. Only one person in the entire world had called him Knoxious. It had only been during one period in his life. And he hadn't seen this person in eleven years.
"Charlie Dalton?"
"Hey buddy, what's going on!"
A large grin broke out onto Knox's face. Of course. Who else could it be to call at such a rude time?
"Charlie! I can't believe... I mean--It's great to hear from you! How are you?"
"I'm doing fine, man... how are you?" exclaimed Charlie.
"I'm great! So... what have you been up to this past decade?"
Charlie laughed. It was a nice sound.
"Oh, you know... same old same old."
"Look, Charlie... I am SO sorry, man...but I have to get to work. Hey why don't we meet up for lunch, say 'round one-ish?" asked Knox.
"Sounds great, man! I'll see you then! Where do you want to go?"
"The Fisher Deli down on fifth. You know where that is, right?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'll find it."
"Great!"
"I'll be seeing you, then!"
"Alright, great!"
"Bye!"
"Goodbye, Charlie."
It was this conversation that made Charlie bounce off to work in a much happier mood than he had in eleven years.