Dialogue exercise 2

Debbie Waldon

"It's like when he came round on Saturday. We were all there, but he wouldn't shut up. He wouldn't stop talking. Know what I mean? It's like when he phones, sometimes he phones and he just wants to ask a question but then he's still on the phone, like, an hour later. And I'm like, 'get off the phone, man, I'm walking down the street and me battery's going'."

The driver braked hard and all the passengers shot forward in their seats; luckily no one was standing. Maggie grabbed her bag too late; the oranges had already escaped.

The young man (god she sounded like her mother) reached down and returned them to their carrier bag cage. Maggie smiled at him, "Thanks."

"When he came round on Thursday I thought Jamie was gonna thump him one. What's his problem? It's like he's got verbal diarrhoea. Don't he know it drives us all nuts?"

In her mind Maggie could see the student house, smell the all-boy student house smells. In her day (ugh, she was her mother) she'd lived in a shared house with five other girls. Six young women all exploring their sexuality, fighting over men, tampons, coffee and Kellogg's. Again the boy's talk shot through her thoughts.

"Why is it he can't get it in his thick fucking head he's just gotta shut up? Cathy can't stand him. I mean, he's all right but he's bit of a jerk. He's studying computer graphics, thinks he's gona start his own company when he leaves uni. Like he's the only one that's ever thought of it. What does he think the rest of us are up to? His dad's loaded though."

She had such plans, all the things she was going to do when she left university. Travelling the world, discovering new places, people that had never seen a white person. Finding a solution to world poverty. Getting this fantastic job that was creative, worthwhile, meaningful and well paid. Attending networking events where she'd be the guest of honour - 'I don't know how you do it, Maggie, business woman of the year five years in a row.'

The life she was leading was nothing like it. Dull, meaningless, assistant to... Overworked, underpaid, used, abused. She'd not travelled much either, one trip to Africa was all that had enlivened a two-week's in the med routine.

Maggie pulled out her phone. The text was creative, worthwhile, meaningful 'I quit.'

'I dunno why he never stops talking. It's not like he's got anything to say. But he never stops, never. Don't he drive you fucking insane too?'

There was a long pause before the simple reply from the other guy; 'Yeah.'