Potential Spam
“Hello?”
“Hey Mom, it's Pam.”
“Oh, Pam!”
“What's so funny?”
“Well caller ID said 'Potential Spam' from Buffalo! And then it was you, calling from your tin-can car!”
“How— What makes you think—”
“A mother knows. You're hands-free, right? Or else you hang up this instant.”
“Yes, mother. Not that I'm— Ergh! Stupid traffic jam in a stupid blizzard! And if I'm not at the apartment in nine minutes the electrician's gonna show up, put a tag on the door-knob and I won't have heat till Monday!”
“Well, not to say 'I told you so,' but—”
“Good. Right, let's skip that part.”
“It's eighty-seven by the pool here in Miami.”
“Let's skip that part too.”
“So. How do I add this new number to contacts? Can I do it while you're on, or will it hang up the call? I never did—”
“We'll do that next time, I can't— I've spent all day crunching logistics. The apartment, DMV, new number, wifi, about thirty new login-passwords to learn for work—”
“Well you could have kept your old number. People do move these days, area-codes aren't what they once—”
“No. I mean yeah, but— I'm happier with it. The whole U-Haul trip, Hector kept calling, and I just couldn't— No matter how many times I swiped to dismiss— I just can't listen to another one of his lectures.”
“Well I did warn you, getting involved with a professor—”
“What ever happened to 'not-to-say-I-told-you-so?'”
“You got me. I accidentally told you I-told-you-so.”
“Alright. Moving on.”
“You could have just picked up and said—”
“Forget it, nothing I said would— He'd have just— 'Oh by all means, try it – see how you like dying alone in the bone-crushing cold, follow your dream.'”
“Well leaving Asheville was—”
“Hang on a sec, this might be the electrician. Hello?”
“Lisa it's Matt, we need to talk - I'm not sayin' I'm innocent in this, but you've gotta think for once and I mean seriously, about the future—”
“This isn't Lisa.”
“You're gonna-— Oh. Wrong number.”
“Mom, are you still there?”
“I was saying the move was a good idea, but you went in the wrong direction! You could be in Florida!”
“No. Florida smells, Mom, I've told you before, I can't stand it.”
“Buffalo smells too! They just don't know it 'cause they're, half-the-year, totally congested!”
“Damnit, move!”
“What, you mean me? There? Really?”
“Ergh! No, sorry, just— I can see the off-ramp from here but it's just— Just—”
“Congested.”
“Very funny.”
“And the men here! In their tight little speedos.”
“There are men here too.”
“I've been on three first dates this week.”
“I don't— Some other time, okay?”
“I'm just saying.”
“Thanks, but I'm not— Two years living with Hector, his constant— Constant pontification, 'you've gotta be realistic,' 'that deadline's too tight, and so is that dress,' 'you'll never fit into that parking spot.' And you know what's crazy? Two years and never once could I just say 'back off jackass, I can do it!' I can do it!”
“Yeah, I know the feeling. Every time I pour a beer-can on your father's grave.”
“Even breaking up, I couldn't— Just cleared out my stuff, I didn't even leave the note! Ergh! It's still in my purse! 'Cause I just couldn't stand to think of, you know, the professor pulling out his little red pen and marking all the wrongly placed apostrophes! Smug corduroy smirk—'”
“Pam slow down, I can hear you driving recklessly.”
“I'm fine. Fine. Anyway I don't want any first dates right now, I've just gotta make my own way, you know? Before I think about—”
“I'm not trying to rush you. So tell me more about this electrician - did he have a tan-line on his ring-finger?”
“Ha-ha.”
“You know what your problem is? You're missing something - one of these jalapeňo margaritas! Here with me by the pool! Instead of lurching through a tundra, then you'd loosen up and laugh with me!”
“I'll visit, I promise— Oh, just a sec, 'other line again. Hello?”
“Listen, Lisa, this is my last quarter - I'm at the Brick Bar, pick me up and we'll talk through this – reasonable, like adults, I think you'll—”
“Nope. Still not Lisa.”
“See you're— What the— Shit!”
“Mom? Hello?”
“I'm here. Electrician?”
“No, just this guy. A real dirtbag drunk, keeps mis-dialing, trying to reach Lisa.”
“...Or? Maybe he's got the right number.”
“Well I don't want to talk to him.”
“Yeah. But you just got that number.”
“You think this was Lisa's number.”
“Could be. So tell me about the new job that was worth moving to the frozen northlands for.”
“It's still claims adjustment but with twelve thousand more take-home, medical and dental, sick and personal days, plus I get my own desk by a window.”
“With a breathtaking blizzard vista.”
“It would have been another four years in Asheville, to get this—”
“Yeah, 'cause nobody wants to live in Buffalo!”
“And with my experience I'm on management track! Hector said it'd take me a decade— Oh! And I could have my own office next year!”
“So? Next time Hector calls? Tell him—”
“No, I don't— And he can't anyway. And I can't 'cause then he'll have my new number.”
“Well I'm proud of you.”
“Ergh. Stupid call again, just gonna—”
“NO.”
“...'No' what?”
“No, answer it. And tell him.”
“It's not— It's this rando with the wrong number.”
“He's got Lisa's number. So? Tell him what Lisa would say.”
“... Thanks, Mom. I'll call you back in a minute.”
“Oh, I'm looking forward to it.”
j. Snodgrass was born in 1979 and lives in Buffalo, NY. (j-snodgrass.com)