Our home phone that is.
Almost never rings except for telemarketers selling stuff we don’t want or need.
But now it was ringing. My mother just looked at it. (She was still holding the unlit cigarette.)
Don’t bother answering it, she said.
But it might be Dad calling back.
I don’t know.
No. Don’t.
She gives up, grabs a lighter,
lights up.
What the hell, she says,
answer it if you want.
Dad?
Only it isn’t Dad.
Jeremy?
Yeah?
It’s me. Caitlan.
No way, I say to myself. Not in this lifetime. Caitlan calling me? My words have all flown away.
Jeremy, are you there?
I’m here. (I cover the mouthpiece, mouth Caitlan’s name silently to my mom and my mom rolls her eyes and leaves the room.)
How would you know this number?
Ever hear of the internet?
You found my number on the internet?
But it wasn’t easy.
You know how many
Stones live in this town?
How many?
Thirty-four. But you were
only twenty-three.
And that’s my lucky number.
Wow.
Like they say, leave no Stone unturned.
Huh?
Sorry. It’s just an expression.
Oh. I’m glad you called.
Me too. I’m glad I found you.
Can we meet somewhere?
Now?
Yeah, now.
Do you know where Coffee Coffee is?
Coffee Coffee is a coffee shop, right?
Of course. It’s two blocks
from the school.
Can you meet me?
Yes, of course.
In a half hour. Okay?
Okay.
And she hung up. I don’t know why the sound of a dead phone line was so beautiful. But it was a wonderful sound.