I tried to reach you today
...no one was home.
I got a new a cell phone today. They were unable to transfer my contact information. I had to go in and manually add all of the names and numbers into my new phone. I thought this was going to be a good idea anyway because I had a lot of numbers stored for people that I didn’t call anymore.
Then I came across my Dad’s number. This made me stop and think… for a moment. I remember that before he died I updated his wife’s phone number into her own contact. I couldn’t keep the three numbers straight between hers, his and their home. Then I seemed to recall that they cancelled their home phone and went wireless only. I thought about calling his number. Maybe it would still be working. Maybe I would hear his voice. I hadn’t tried to call his phone since he died. I think I remember that the voicemail was recorded by my step-brother, and not in my dad’s voice…
I dial the number. I feel my gut tighten. Immediately. I can feel a panic-attack swelling in my brain; like a tiny ballon used to make water-bombs by my children in the summer being filled by a slow flow from the hose; threatening to take control of my hand and push the “end” button. What if she kept his number active for sentimental reasons or because she couldn’t deal with the pain of disconnecting it yet. What if she had it sitting by her, at all times, to monitor who was calling him, in case they hadn’t heard the news. What if… she answered the phone. All of a sudden I feel like a pre-teen making a crank call. I feel heat bursting to my cheeks. The phone rings one, two times… oh God, she did keep it connected… the third ring and then the canned-female voice of the cellphone carrier comes on the line telling me the number has been disconnected.
I do it all again… just to make sure.