"Hey, Mallory, guess what? It's three in the morning."

"Oh, hi, Sam! Get out of my life, you crazy stalker freak! And thanks for waking me up on a school night, by the way, you asshole."

Yeah, right. 'Cause what I really need is another reason for her to be mad at me. I mean, really.

I try closing my eyes. I've heard that's what people do when they want to sleep. Not that I would know; these days, the only time I get any sleep is when it sneaks up behind me and does a flying tackle.

My eyes pop open. Maybe this sleeping thing isn't for me, after all. Should I turn off the light? That could help... A plan sidles into my head, unannounced. I could call her, listen to her say hello, and then hang up, and perhaps that would be enough to get me to sleep. It occurs to me that although this is one step up the stalker ladder from just calling and actually talking to her, she'll never know it was me. Genius! I'll be breaking into her apartment to sniff her clothes next. I pick up the phone anyway.

Three rings before she picks up. That's not too bad; maybe she was awake and we can talk.

"Hello?" Nope, way too sleepy. I hesitate.

"Hello?" she repeats, then, "Listen, whoever, I hope you didn't wake me up at this hour just to hang up on me." Feeling guilty, I hang up. Shouldn't have hung up. Should've apologized. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

The phone rings. Work, at this time of night? Oh my God, the President is dead! Okay, relax, get a hold of yourself. The President is not dead. Answer the phone. "Sam Seabourn."

"Listen, you psycho... Sam? Is that you?" Oh, shit.

"Uh, no," I reply, making my voice as deep as possible.

"Sam, why did you just call me?" Not easily fooled, this one. She doesn't sound very upset, though. "Is something wrong?"

"How did you know it was me?" I ask wretchedly.

"Star 69." Oops. "Sam? What?"

"Nothing. I mean, I just had... a bad day, you know, and I couldn't sleep knowing you were angry with me."

"I'm angry with you?" She sounds puzzled.

"Well, yeah. At the restaurant earlier?" I remind gently. "I wanted lobster and you said it's cruel the way they plunge them screaming into hot water and boil them alive..."

"Oh, yeah," she says. "Yeah, I'm pretty furious."

Damn! Why can't I just keep my stupid mouth shut? "Oh," I respond weakly.

"Tell you what. Are you ever going to eat lobster again?"

Think fast, Sam. "No?" I hazard.

"Good. Then I'm not mad at you anymore."

"Really?"

"Really."

"And for calling so late?"

Pause. Then, reluctantly, "All is forgiven."

Phew. "Thanks, Mal."

"Goodnight, Sam."

"'Night, Mal. Sleep tight."

I hang up carefully, turn out the light, and lie back. Hmm... Maybe this eyes-closed thing could work after all. I'll get back to you on that.