$500 / 550ft² - stuidio (sic) on farm (in the country north of sanger)
** Italics= exasperated tone
Phone rings. A man answers with a slight country drawl. “Hello?”
“Hi I was calling about the ad for the studio on Craigslist. (Long Pause) Hello….?”
“I’m here…”
“Uh, I had emailed you. You told me to call you.”
“Uh…yeah…” Long pause. The phone goes dead. Strange. I call again.
Phone rings. He answers. “Hello?”
“Sorry,” I say—Why am I apologizing?--“My phone must have cut out.”
“No,” he replies, “It was my phone. It’s the heat. It’s goddamn hot out here.” I laugh nervously. The drawl rolls on. “Okay…” His Okay begins to have what seems to be more than two syllables. “Here we go. You know where McKinley hits Clovis?”
“No, I’m new to Fresno.” .
“Okaaaay….here we go…again. You know where the Airport is?” I scramble to click on Google Maps on my desktop. “Uh…yes…yes I do.”
“McKinley is south of the airport. You got that?”
“Yes.” I imagine a wood chipper on his property out in the country.
“Go East on McKinley until you hit Clovis. Now when you hit Clovis, I don’t care which way you go. Left or right, don’t matter.” Now I’m perplexed—no totally fricking confused, but I don’t dare interrupt as he chugs along. It’s clear that the train has left the station. “When you get to the next street on either side, go East. Continue East for—I don’t know—awhile…til you get to…Temp-muf-ul-flug” OMG he just mumbled. He mumbled! I don’t know the cross street. Jesus, what do I do?
“Sorry—another apology!—“I…uh… didn’t catch that.”
“Catch what?”
“The cross street” I definitely hear a sigh.
“TEMP-ER-ANCE. Okaaaaaaay. Turn onto Temperance…Then you’ll hit McKinley again. Continue on McKinley for I don’t know how long, then pass Del Rey, and the property is on the right. Look for the gravel road.” Gravel road. Of course it’s a gravel road. I meekly summon the courage to inquire, “Let me see if I got this straight—“ He interrupts me.
“I just gave you directions…Questions?”
“Well, it’s just that, I’m an incoming Graduate student, and all, you know, in the Plant Sciences Department—Why in God’s name am I explaining myself?! “I’m not that familiar with Fresno.”
“Everybody’s got issues…”
“I beg your pardon?”
“They used to call them…problems…you know what I mean?”
“No.”
“Divorce, alimony, kids…we all got’em…issues.”
Ok. Thanks. Well, anyway…” The drawl interjects,
You might like the place. You might not. I’m not you. It’s quiet. You can leave your doors unlocked.”
“NO I WON’T!” I insist to myself. He continues.
“I was hopin’ to rent the house up front but now there’s just Nicole and Erica there. Don’t know if you got a girlfriend, or nothing, but they’re there.”
Ok…thanks…anyway…my name is Adam. (Pause) “What’s your name?”
“Darryl.” And the phone goes dead.
