"Sorry," he said, "but I can't answer you right now. I'm in the middle of a..."
She swallowed as she heard his words,
gathered all her courage and said, "you told me I can contact you anytime."
"I did," he admitted, "but any time doesn't mean I have always time for you."
"You explicitly told me you would if I was in need."
She felt numb. Didn't know if she should cry or tell, what to think about the man she just called. He offered his help and at the moment she was in need backed off, told her anytime was not anytime not even in case of need. She gazed at the wall and tried to focus on the flowers. Why did her tears fell?
"Are you still there?"
He sounded irritated.
"You can call me later, in two hours or more and I make time for you, or do you like to make an appointment, see me in person? Call my secretary if that's what you wish.
'Anytime meant later if it fitted him or making an appointment,' she thought, 'anytime meant no time.'
Without a word, she ended the call. No time was what she suffered from. No one had time, ever invested time in her. Even the therapist she paid and told her she could call anytime was not willing to give her a bit of his time.
It was time to realize nothing would change. Whatever it was she had to deal with it alone. She wrote a letter, removed the battery out of her phone, closed the door, and hurried to the station. It was 5 p.m. she had a train to catch after all.
