Chapter Seven or so

The caller ID had been showing ‘Privacy Manager’ for a couple of days on this grey Saturday morning in March, both at home and on my company issue cell. I ignored them all. I reasoned that if they took the trouble to block the call, there must be a reason they didn’t want me to know who they were. I was waiting for a call from Phil, my attorney, not a phone solicitor or bill collector. It had been two months since Kathy had taken off and I had plans already in motion for a divorce by publication, in effect, in absentia. The notice would be in the paper in a week or two.

Phil was an old family friend; he and my father had helped each other out with this or that personal or professional debacle for years. As a judge, he performed the marriage ceremony for my brother and his now ex-wife. Later, as an attorney, he had represented my brother in his divorce. He had greatly helped Kathy and myself in dealings with her ex. I thought it only fitting to retain his services.

Phil thought I was just being shrewd by this tack, as it was more expensive and time consuming, but the real reason was a genuine concern for my wife. While I was still, by far, the most pissed off I had ever been in my life, I didn’t think it would do much good for her to be served by jack booted deputies with squawking radios just when she thought she was safe. Even after being abandoned by the bitch, I still cared for her well being, and this was the closest thing I could do to comply with her request of an uncontested divorce.

It was nearing noon as Luke and I came home after a trip to the grocery. We needed provisions and I had finally convinced him that if he wanted to choose what we would have for dinner that week, he must accompany me to help pick it out, I wasn’t a mind reader, after all, a trip to the video rental store providing further impetus. The cell phone started singing the "Mexican Hat Dance", my ring tone of choice at the time, just as we left the latter.

"Dad, who is it?"

"It doesn’t say. It just says ‘call’."

"Answer it, it might be important"

"Doubtful. Besides, we’re almost home."

I pulled into the driveway. The land line was ringing as we brought in the groceries. I ignored it. The cell phone rang again as we were finishing putting things away. It said ‘call’. I sighed deeply, ignored it, turned off the bell and then tossed it onto the kitchen counter, showing absolutely no respect for company property. The land line rang again. Not at all to my surprise, the ID read ‘Privacy Manager’, and I had seen that same number several times a few months before, but not for quite some time since, at least not until this last couple of days. It couldn’t be good.

I had tried running a reverse phone number search for it on the internet when it had first starting appearing, right around when Billy took off, hoping it might shed some light on his decision to do so. But that was to no avail, the search revealed the city, Evanston, Illinois, but not the name or address of the party making the call. Kathy and I both, on separate occasions, tried to return the call only to have them not go through, which I considered rather unusual for twenty-first century North America.

"Dad, answer the phone."

"No, we’re busy."

"No, we’re not. Why won’t you answer it?"

"It can’t be good and I don’t want to talk to anybody. I want to watch a movie. Do you want some popcorn?"

The ringing from the dining room stopped. I went in and turned off the bell. I had left the bell on continuously for a while following Kathy’s departure in case she might happen to call. Both Luke and I would rush to the ID upon entering the house. Now we would just check it, from time to time; when we came in, between movies, and pee breaks, checking on to whom money was owed, having given up on hearing from her weeks before.

I walked back into the kitchen. The cell phone was flashing.

"Yeah, and a Mountain Dew. I’m going to answer it next time. I have to know who it is."

"It’s probably just a scam, or a computer looking for another computer. I’ll answer it the next time it rolls around. Cue up the movie, I’ll be right there."

I took a bag of popcorn out of the pantry and put it in the microwave. Neglecting to start the oven, I glanced down at the cell. No longer flashing, it read 6 missed calls. I walked into the dining room just as the land line started flashing. I was hoping it was someone selling windows, subscriptions, lawn care, anything. As I finally picked it up, I already knew who it was.

"Hello?"

We didn’t quite get around to seeing a movie that afternoon.