“Hey.”
“Hey baby. I'm kind of in the middle of something, can I call you back?”
“Yeah. No. Sure, I guess. Whatever you want.”
Amy sighed on the other line. “What's the matter, pumpkin?”
“Nothing.”
“Ok, well, I've really got to -”
“It's just that that's exactly the problem. You're kind of in the middle of something. You're always kind of in the middle of something. Or I am. Either way it doesn't matter. I mean, what the hell are we doing anyway? We're not getting married, so what, really, is the point?”
“Jesus. Are you breaking up with me again?”
“Don't take the Lord's name in vain. And no, I'm not breaking up with you...you know I wouldn't break up with you over the phone. Christ, I'm not that much of an asshole.”
“Listen. I can't handle this shit anymore. Just because you hate your job, you hate your life, or whatever your fucking problem is doesn't mean that you can dangle our relationship over my head. Are you breaking up with me or not? Let's settle this thing.” She sounded serious.
“The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak,” Sam replied dryly, like it was some private sarcasm.
“Don't you start quoting the fucking Bible at me, this is serious.” Now she was really getting upset.
“What, the Bible isn't serious? The Word of God isn't a serious issue? That's the problem with you Catholics – damned Papists! - you're perfectly willing to accept the words of some pedaphilic priest, or some lunatic in Rome claiming to be God's only voice in this world, but you don't take the Holy Scripture seriously!”
“What is the matter with you? I mean, really, what the hell is the matter with you?”
“The Spirit of the Lord has departed me, and an evil spirit of the Lord torments me,” Sam said.
“Ok. Fine. Have it your way. We're done. This time we're really done. You've been wanting to do it for years, well have it your fucking way.” She hung up, probably wishing that she could slam her cellphone down. Still, Sam imagined that she pressed the End button hard enough so that it would never work properly again.
“Hmm. That didn't go well,” he muttered as he closed the phone and slipped it into his jeans pocket, where it rattled against his keys.
