Misdialed Number - 9/1

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RE: Misdialed Number - 9/1

Postby cherrycoke77 » Mon Jul 12, 2010 10:52 am

"Uh...hello?" I answer my smart-phone to the ring of "London Calling" by The Clash. I set my rose-red Prada purse down on the concrete bench conjoined to an immense fountain that flows crystal clear water and pennies just outside the Writers Digest building.

"Lexi! Baby! God, it's been eons! How are you, love?" a voice answers in an overly exhuberant voice that makes me cringe. Who the hell is this?

"Um, can I help you?" I say uneasily.

"Well, yeah you can, gorgeous! How 'bout you acompany me and Jerry tonight at that avant-garde little Italian resturant on 25th Avenue? Jerry's got a girl, but I thought I'd give you a ring and see if you wanted to partake in a double date?" He explains with a little too much desperation, words slurred and all. He's obviously drunk; what an ass to call me like this.

"Excuse me...er......?" I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes as I rack my brain to pair a face with this annonmyous, drunk, sweet-talking man.

"Uh, Johnny?" He offers, somewhat offended by my lack of memory.

Johnny....Johnny...who is that? I think real hard to remember any guy I had ever been with so called 'Johnny'. I've been with a Ryan. A kevin, sure. A Brad, no doubt. But a Johnny?

"Come on, don't tell me you forgot? Our special night at the Hilton? Aw, don't tell me you forgot such a night?" I can almost hear his akward grin he now wears.

Gag. It suddenly hits me like a truck driving 70 mph down the freeway; Johnny! I abruptly remember his scraggly, greasy hair, grey-green eyes, lanky figure, and killer-strong cologne he never failed to wear. My thoughts warp back to the moment 2 years ago, when not only was he drunk, but I had downed a little more than a glass of Vodka at "Benny's Bed-Rock Bar" just off of Waverly Street. We both had been so out of it and somehow, someway, we ended up back at my place, faces plastered together, making love. I woke up the next morning with the worst goshdarn hangover in the history of hangovers. The whole thing didn't mean anything to me or him, so I wondered why he was calling. The acid in my stomach churns, and my thoat cuts off my breathing passageway. I remember more distincly: he was a player.

"Johnny! Darling, how the hell have YOU been?" I fake a sarcastic, hospitable demeanor. It's always been my default personality trait in the face of unexpected occurances or confrontations. Not only that, it works like a charm, like a trap that unhesitatingly gripps the prey at the neck and leaves them self-satisfied. Only for but a moment.

"Lexi, I knew you were just playin' with me. Hey, screw the double-date plan. I have something better in mind..."

"Oh?" I seductively pose a query at him. "And what's that?"

"You know exactly what. Meet me at the Ramada. I'll book a suite. Just you. Just me. How about it, beautiful? What'da say? Screw the old plan."

"Screw the old plan, huh?" I answer vaguely. I'm just so disgusted the entire time. "How about a different approach..." I intentionally purse my red, red lipstick lips. I should be a damn actress, for crying out loud.

"Yeahhhh. So what'dda think?" He humms hungirly into the phone.

"What do i think?" I sardonically return the question. "Screw. Someone. Else. That. Cares." I pierce each word with overpowering, disdainful resentment. I touch the 'End' red button on my cellular, hold the button until the phone powers down, and throw it into the fountain behind me.

To hell with old flings, old hook ups. I vow to myself, to the world, to find someone real, someone meaningul, someone true in my life. Like, a turning point.

Like they say: out with the old, in with the new.

"Hah." I chuckle to myself bittersweetly. "In with the freaking new."

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Re: Misdialed Number - 9/1

Postby Pearl96 » Tue Mar 29, 2011 10:58 pm


“Hello… who-”

“Dani? No way, Dani! It’s been years.”

“What – uh, yeah… years.”

“I can’t believe this. I was just talking about you to Mark – you remember Mark? – yesterday. Life’s funny isn’t it. So how are you?”

“Oh I’m… good. You?”

“It’s been almost three years, Dani, I know you have more to say then good. How did your relationship with Mikey pan out?”

“Mikey? Oh, we broke up at least two years ago-”

“No! Why? You seemed so happy.”

“Obviously he wasn’t as happy with me as he was with the blonde I found him with in our bed.”

“Oh Darling, you poor thing. What a bastard! At least when Tom and I broke up he was up front about it. Are you seeing anyone now?”

“Yes actually. I started seeing someone last week.”

“Really, who?”

“You wouldn’t know them.”

“Come on Dani, give me details.”

“Her names Caitlin.”

“…Huh. I always did wonder who had stolen my lace underwear when I stayed over at your house after break-up.”


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Re: Misdialed Number - 9/1

Postby Trissa » Sat Apr 02, 2011 6:09 am

I was in a hurry...as usual. My workday over, I was flying out the office door. I was late in picking up my daughter at the sitter's. I had to let Mrs. Newman know that I was on my way. It had been ages since I had to call my sitter. We usually caught up on things when I dropped Angie off in the morning. Digging through my purse, I found a worn piece of paper stuffed in the hidden compartment of my billfold. It looked vaguely familiar, so I punched the number into my cell phone.

"Hello?" A woman's voice answered. It wasn't Mrs. Newman, but I had heard the voice before.

"Oh, hi. This is Mrs. Reilly."

I heard a gasp from the other end. "Mrs. Reilly, I almost gave up on you ever calling me."

"Well, I know I'm late, but..."

"No, no! It's never too late." I could have sworn I heard a sob. "How is she? I bet she's growing like a weed."

"She sure is," I continued confused. My mind rapidly tried putting pieces together. "Ahh, it's been awhile hasn't it."

"Yes, three years. I know I promised not to contact you guys after the adoption. But you must have known how I miss her."

The final piece of the puzzle snapped into place. "I'm sorry, Darlene. I just found this number in my billfold."

"Thanks for calling. You don't know how many times I wonder how she's doing. What she looks like. What her little voice sounds like."

I now remembered Darlene as being a child herself when she gave up Angie. I found myself feeling sorry for the young girl, who was just 16 and alone when she gave birth to my darling daughter. "How are you doing?" I risked asking.

"Better. I'm getting back on track. I got my GED last year and I'm looking at courses at the local Tech." She paused before going on. "I met this really nice guy there. He's going for a Criminal Justice degree. I've never told him about Angie. I don't think I will...for some time at least, if ever."

"That's your choice, Darlene." It was then that I made a decision. "But would you like to see her sometime? We don't have to tell her who you are. Just a family friend."

"Oh, yes! More than anything," she cried. "Just the three of us; you, me, and Angie. There's a park near my new apartment. We could meet there."

A couple of weeks after my wrong number, I made things right for Darlene. We spent a pleasant afternoon in the park as I caught her up-to-speed on Angie's life with me and Derek. Some day, when Angie is old enough, I will tell her about her brave birth mother. How at a young age, she made a tough decision and allowed us to give Angie a life she couldn't give her. In the meantime, we enjoy our time in the little park with our family friend, Darlene.


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