This is your past calling.

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The cellphone rings. I look down. It’s the woman who excised me from her life like a tumor. Five months ago.

Why would she be calling me? Should I answer the phone? In the last conversation we had, she was pretty clear about not wanting to have ANY contact with me whatsoever. “In any format” were her exact words.

I’m torn. There’s a little “fight or flight” adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream. Did something happen? Is she hurt? Why does she even still know what my phone number is? Isn’t deleting the contact information the next step after blocking and unfriending on FaceBook?

I answer the phone. “Hello?”

Static and wind noise. She must be in her convertible with the top down. I catch a word or two but nothing else. I tell her I can’t hear her and I’ll call her back.

I dial the phone. It goes straight to voicemail. I leave a message. Ten minutes pass. Nothing. Send a text. No response. Send another that says “I’ll assume that was a mistake, sorry for bothering you.”

Just like five months ago, I have no idea what just happened. Or why. And all I can think is, I hope she’s okay.

My son tells me she’s nuts. I guess I’ll go with that. Still, it’s unnerving.

Written by

father, motorcyclist, old retired guy who’s just a little lost on a blue marble corkscrewing its way to oblivion

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