Failing to Fall

We didn't say anything else after that. There was a polite silence; as if something about what I said had been obscene. By the time my taxi came I didn't want it, but I took it anyway. I was going to be late and in the wrong mood and I couldn't help looking for other taxis to see who was inside and if they were happy.

That afternoon, it wasn't very good. I couldn't say what was wrong about it and we made no fuss at the time, but the atmosphere was odd. I strained somewhere in my neck.

It took several weeks before whatever difference we had developed was dispersed and for all of that time at the back of my mind there was a little fleet of taxis full of people I didn't know. They were all being special without me. Perhaps it was that slight mental disturbance which made me think it was strange that I never made the call. I was always the one that got the taxi. Never the caller, always the called. Why shouldn't the process work in reverse? There was a pleasant logic in it. The only component transferred would be the element of surprise. Who would begrudge that? There would still be an expectant journey, a tension, a reward for waiting. No problem. I made a call.

'Right now.'

'Who is this?'

'You know who it is. I have to see you. Come now.'

'I can't now.'

'I want you to.'

'I can't.'

I waited at home for three hours and nobody came. I stayed in all that evening and nobody came.

Sometime later, a matter of months, I found I was waiting at the stance for a taxi. It was going to be an innocent taxi and I felt a little embarrassed at catching it there. In fact, the whole situation was uncomfortable because I hadn't caught a taxi in hot blood since that unfortunate call. Everything was reminding me that I didn't know how to fall any more. I couldn't do it on my own.

'Hello, I thought it was you.'

It was, unmistakably, that voice. That mouth. The steady eyes.

'Here we are again. Not speaking?'

'We're not here again. I'm catching a taxi because I'm late.'

'That's a shame. Trouble at work?'

'What do you mean?'

'Excessive absenteeism?'

I didn't have to look, I knew the mouth would be smiling.

'If it's any of your business, it was trouble at home. No more taxis. Full stop. Not needed.'

'Now that is a shame. That's terrible news. Look, I'll write this down. Call me, will you?'

'What?'

'Call me. On the telephone. That's my number.'

'Why the fuck would I do that?'

'Call me and see.'

I can only say I was shocked and, because my journey was less important than those I had been used to, I walked away without saying another word. I didn't need the stance; I could flag down a cab in the street; it didn't matter.