RINGGGG. You know the feeling. The phone rings close to midnight. A zillion thoughts fly through your mind in seconds of the mystery caller. All of our friends and family know our sleep schedule. Bobby works at the Albany International Airport as the Safety Training Officer. He is not due in until 7:00 AM but he very slow moving through his morning routine so he has to get up at 5:00 AM. I am up around 6:00 AM and at work by 7:00 AM. Full steam ahead! No time to mess around. I have a schedule and the slightest delay will put my off my whole plan. I direct multiple day programs for survivors with traumatic brain injury. Three of the locations are one hour apart in distance and if I have to hit all three, it will be a long day. I had been working on starting another location in Ithaca, NY, three hours away. It was exciting and I loved my job but the stress was catching me. In the last couple years, I had suffered from severe insomnia. I could fall asleep but would wake up around 1:00 AM and stay awake. On average, I slept 3-4 hours per night. So, anyone who knew us knew not to call us after 8:00 PM, unless it was an emergency.
RINGGGG. What an awful sound in pitch blackness. I was lying on my stomach facing my husband Bobby. He was flat on his back snoring. He doesn’t even hear it. I pulled myself up on my elbows and turned to my right. The blinding red digital numbers on the alarm clock read 11:30 PM. I flashed back a couple years before. Bobby was a truck driver for a transportation company and it required him to work all sorts of hours including over nights. I was plagued with an obscene caller whenever Bobby was working over night. This went on for a couple years until one night, Bobby was suppose to work but did not feel well and called in sick. Around 10:00 PM, my rude admirer called. “Hey baby, I want to fuck you so bad.”
All I had to say to Bobby was, “it’s him!”
Bobby snatched the phone out of my hand and commenced a barrage of obscenities on the filthy pig. “You dirty som bitch. I’ll come through this phone and tear your fucking throat out. Where are you? Face me you nasty fuck!” I don’t quite know when the pig hung up. Bobby just kept going. Bobby has always been a little over protective of me. Sometimes it could be a little annoying, but on this night, I felt safe. The nasty pig never called me again.
RINGGGGG! The boys? The grandkids??? Oh my god, the grandkids! I am Bobby’s third wife and we have no children together. Although, he is 18 years my senior, we were approaching twenty years together, our relationship has always been quite strong and he would reference his family as my own. He had three handsome boys as a result of his first marriage and seven beautiful grandchildren.
RINGGGG! Well shit, it’s probably a wrong number. I reached for the phone and in a sleepy tone “Hello?”
“Tammy, it’s Frank”. My step father Frank married my Mother when I was nine years old. We had a very rocky relationship when I was growing up but as an adult, we had managed to develop a respect for the other. "Tammy, your mother had not been feeling well today and tonight she thought she was going to pass out. I took her to the emergency room. They had to give her a blood transfusion. Tammy, they didn't confirm it but they think she has Leukemia.
RINGGGG. What an awful sound in pitch blackness. I was lying on my stomach facing my husband Bobby. He was flat on his back snoring. He doesn’t even hear it. I pulled myself up on my elbows and turned to my right. The blinding red digital numbers on the alarm clock read 11:30 PM. I flashed back a couple years before. Bobby was a truck driver for a transportation company and it required him to work all sorts of hours including over nights. I was plagued with an obscene caller whenever Bobby was working over night. This went on for a couple years until one night, Bobby was suppose to work but did not feel well and called in sick. Around 10:00 PM, my rude admirer called. “Hey baby, I want to fuck you so bad.”
All I had to say to Bobby was, “it’s him!”
Bobby snatched the phone out of my hand and commenced a barrage of obscenities on the filthy pig. “You dirty som bitch. I’ll come through this phone and tear your fucking throat out. Where are you? Face me you nasty fuck!” I don’t quite know when the pig hung up. Bobby just kept going. Bobby has always been a little over protective of me. Sometimes it could be a little annoying, but on this night, I felt safe. The nasty pig never called me again.
RINGGGGG! The boys? The grandkids??? Oh my god, the grandkids! I am Bobby’s third wife and we have no children together. Although, he is 18 years my senior, we were approaching twenty years together, our relationship has always been quite strong and he would reference his family as my own. He had three handsome boys as a result of his first marriage and seven beautiful grandchildren.
RINGGGG! Well shit, it’s probably a wrong number. I reached for the phone and in a sleepy tone “Hello?”
“Tammy, it’s Frank”. My step father Frank married my Mother when I was nine years old. We had a very rocky relationship when I was growing up but as an adult, we had managed to develop a respect for the other. "Tammy, your mother had not been feeling well today and tonight she thought she was going to pass out. I took her to the emergency room. They had to give her a blood transfusion. Tammy, they didn't confirm it but they think she has Leukemia.
Very well written, Tam. I like how you don't stray from using your own voice - as if you're telling me to story right across the aisle at work. ;-) Is there a follow-up? There must be so much more to follow after that one very fateful sentence.
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