Reconnected 1997 Poem by Terry Collett

A week has gone,
and Nuala has not
heard from Una,
where she had gone,
or where she is.

Then just after
her husband Brian
had gone for work,
the phone rings,
and she picks it up,
and Una's voice says,
is it you Nuala?

Nuala nods
to the phone stupidly.

Yes, where are you?

Dublin, I've got
a new place,
a bedsit.

Where in Dublin?

Una tells her.

How long
you been there?

A few days,
Una replies.

Why didn't you
ring me before?

I was with a friend,
and didn't want
to worry them,
and I wanted somewhere
we could be together,
Una says.

Nuala pauses,
looks at the phone,
I was worried
about you,
she says.

Not easy finding
somewhere, and this
friend let me stay
a few days,
and I was so upset
about leaving your place,
and your husband
gawking at me
most of the time,
I couldn't
do it anymore,
Una says.

Who's your friend?
Nuala says.

A university friend,
Una says.

Did you bed her?
Nuala says
without thinking first.

No I didn't,
it's a he actually,
Una says brittlely.

Sorry I shouldn't
have said that,
I should have
trust in you,
not doubt,
Nuala says.

There is silence
on the phone.

Nuala looks
at the phone piece.

Are you still there?
she says.

Yes,
Una says,
still here;
please don't doubt me;
I'd not doubt you.

Nuala stares
at a photo of Brian
on the sideboard
next to the phone,
and turns him away
to face the wall,
I'm sorry,
I was worried about you,
and having Brian
asking questions
all the fecking time
asking where you were,
and where you went,
it got to me,
Nuala says.

When can you come?
Una asks.

This afternoon,
I can come then,
Nuala says.

You sure?
Una says.

Yes, this afternoon,
Nuala says.

I'll be ready,
Una says
in her sexy voice.

The phone
goes dead.

Nuala stares at it,
and puts it back down,
and begins to cry,
and knows,
but doesn't know why.