The Writer Finds A Listener

“Hey, Aidan! My sistah from another mistah!”

I would’ve laughed at her reaction at any other time. When I didn’t her voice came over the phone again.

“Hey, AIDS – is anything wrong?”

“Oh, that beastly nickname,” I grumbled into the receiver – in high school, when she learned my name was Aidan, she abbreviated it to the most familiar name she could think of.

And the first thing she thought of (being Emma) was HIV AIDS . You could say I wasn’t exactly pleased…

“Yeah, I’ve been calling you that for what…ten years, plus? So, girl, spill! I can hear it in your voice,” Emma chattered, and my heart calmed.

“Well…do you remember the guy I told you about?”

“Sure – the sandman? Yeah, I remember.”

“Seriously, Ems, your nicknames are priceless.”

“Continue, AIDS – don’t digress.”

I sighed, and from then on started the rant. Emma, as always, was patient and excited – she only asked a few one word questions here and there.

It felt so good to have someone to listen, once in a while.

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