Samantha

“Do you know how many strings I had to pull for you to have that picnic.” My mother shouted over the phone.

“I know, I know and thank you mom.” I said ignoring her now angry tone of voice.

“So was it worth it.” She asked, her voice getting muffled by the many papers she was shuffling.

I think back to that time when Bavumile opened up to me, and trusted himself enough to tell me what he told me. “Yes.”

“Good, look honey I have to go.”

I rolled my eyes there was no call or a lunch date that I had with my mother that never got interrupted, I have gotten used to how busy she was but sometimes it pricked my heart.

“Okay.” I barely got the words out before the call went dead.

I sat back on the couch and ate the dry cereal, I should have cooked something but I had no energy to cook anything so instead I settled for cereal only to find out that I had expired milk.

I started flipping through channels when my phone rang, I looked at the caller ID and it was the prison number.

My hearts started racing, there could be many reasons why I would get such a call and at this hour. “Hello.” I said sounding surprisingly calm and nothing like the turmoil burning inside me.

“Samantha.”

My knees buckled when I heard that smooth voice, making me feel flustered.

“Bavumile.” I said now sounding breathy.

“I managed to get a phone call.” He said.

I smiled as if I was seeing him standing awkwardly in the phone booth “Oh, that’s nice.”

“Yeah.” He paused for a second, “Thank you for today.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” I said standing up and headed to the kitchen and poured myself some water.

“But I do, no one has done something so nice, just for me.”

“Everyone deserves something nice, right?”

“Yeah you are right, my time is up. I hope you have a good night.” He said before the line went dead.

I wanted to kick my stupid heart for fluttering the moment I heard his voice.

I placed the glass down and went back to the couch, my heart still fluttered whenever I thought about him and how my name rolled off his tongue like a hot butter.

I should kill the butterflies that were starting to roam around on my stomach, but I couldn’t even if they were caused by a convict.