THE WIND PHONE
Wake Me Up Before You Go
Don’t slip away like a thief in the night
CW: Suicide
Big Red was what our friends called their large, Christmas-red van, and seeing it turn into our driveway meant our house would be filled with people, laughter, and fun for a week or so.
Janet was one of my mother’s oldest friends. Sometimes, she’d visit on her own, but more often, her husband John would drive her up from Los Angeles to San Jose.
The best times were when Janet and John brought their daughter Jan. Jan could make me laugh with a silly voice or a raise of an eyebrow. She was about three years older, creative, brilliant, and a bit of a beautiful weirdo.
I adored her and naturally gravitated to girls who had her same long dark hair, dark eyes, and slightly devious smile. If you looked like Jan, I wanted to be your friend.
While the grown-ups drank their wine and burned the Xmas tree in the fireplace (!), Jan and I hid under the dining room table and recorded them on an old portable cassette recorder.
Afterward, we’d play the tape back and laugh at their silly, drunken conversations.
I was six years old when I told my first joke.
