Deflated (Epilogue 1)

AMY. Hello?

ROGER. Amy!

AMY. Who’s there?

ROGER. Roger.

AMY. My Roger?

ROGER. Of course it’s your Roger, Amy. How are you? I’ve been dying to talk with you for weeks.

AMY. Oh, hi. You scared me. I was expecting another call. Where are you calling from?

ROGER. I’ll give you a hint, it’s not from California. It’s a local call. I’m back in town, Whitehouse, U.S.A. I’m sitting on the top of the counter in my parents’ kitchen. Boy, it’s good to get you on the other end of the line, Amy. Finally, Miss Amy Weisburg! You wouldn’t believe how hard it’s been to get hold of you.

AMY. You sound . . . happy.

ROGER. I just got back from the greatest experience of my life. It was an epic crossing. I feel won-der-ful.

AMY (sad laugh). I wish I could feel that way. I’ve been cooped up all day with my nieces and nephews, babysitting. I have an abscessed tooth and a big zit on my nose.

ROGER. Say Amy . . . aren’t you going to ask about my trip? Or welcome me home? I tried to call you a couple times out there, you know, and couldn’t track you down. Did you get my postcards? Where’ve you been hiding out?

AMY. I’ve been right in Flemington, mostly, except for working a couple nights a week at my father’s office in West Orange. I got your postcards and letter and thought they were, uh, cute. You really know how to surprise a person, don’t you?

ROGER. Well, I wanted you to know you were being thought about. Don’t you feel good that I like you?

AMY. When did you get back?

ROGER. Yesterday afternoon. Otto and I spent a few days down at the shore, to round things out and relax. We got in—from California, that is, Thursday night. Some guy brought us all the way from Iowa. Over a thousand miles. Can you believe it?

AMY. You’ll have to tell me later, Roger. My mother just drove in. I have to go.

ROGER. What’re you doing tonight? Can I come over? I want to tell you all about my trip.

AMY. I don’t know about that, Roger. I think my mother wants me to babysit. I sort of got stuck minding these kids.

ROGER. So, when can I see you, then? I’m available every day and night from now until—the next two years.

AMY. Oh yeah? (laughs) What happens then?

ROGER. Come on, Amy, you know what I mean. I’m riding high and want to see you. Just pick a time, and I’ll be there.

AMY. I’m not sure, Roger. You know, my two jobs take up all my time.

ROGER. You’re busy seven days a week with your jobs?

AMY. It seems like I am. Or else I’m too tired. You’ve really caught me at a bad time.

ROGER. Well, sorry about that!

AMY. You’re not mad at me, are you, Roger? I hate people getting mad at me.

ROGER. Why would I be mad at you?

AMY. Because it sounds like it?

ROGER. Your words, not mine. I feel like a million.

AMY. I’m glad to hear you made it back from your trip and all. Sounds like it was a good one.

ROGER. Revealing.

AMY. You sure you’re not mad?

ROGER. Positively—not.

AMY. Then call me later this week.

ROGER. Right. Sure thing. Will do. No problem. My pleasure.

AMY. Goodbye.

ROGER. Amy?

AMY. (hangs up)