Don’t Freak Out

Patty glanced at her vibrating phone and tried not to react when she saw the caller ID. “Joey,” it said.

It hadn’t said that in, she thought back, 14 months 3 days and 5 hours. Actually, the last time she had talked to Joey was about 2 days before that horribly rainy morning in October when she had scrolled through Facebook and saw the words Joey’s wife had left on his wall. “With deep regret, we announce that Joe has passed away. Details to follow.”

But now someone was calling her from his phone. Patty stared at it.

“Patty?” her boss asked, summoning her back to the room. The phone stopped vibrating. “Missed call” it said.

“Sorry,” Patty apologized, reaching for her notebook. Lou went back to listing the requirements for the project, but Patty didn’t hear him. The phone vibrated again.

“Excuse me,” Patty murmured around the table, waving her cell phone apologetically. “I have to take this.”

She ran down the hall and out the door, imagining what must have happened. One of the nieces or nephews had the phone and were calling everyone on the list. The wife had gotten curious about the “P” on Joey’s phone. She pictured Joey’s face, that birthmark on his cheek, the way his fingernails felt when they grazed her arms, the stubble on his cheek. She pictured the funeral, when she had stood in the back and tried to blend in, the anguish on the wife’s face when the casket was wheeled past.

She slid the answer button to the right and brought the phone to her ear.

“Don’t freak out,” he said.

Patty’s stomach dropped and her mouth fell open, gasping. She looked around, trying to catch her breath. There was nothing to see except a parking lot, filled with SUVs, sensible cars, and one motorcycle that belonged to Patty’s boss. She tried to form words but couldn’t.

“It’s me,” he said.

Forcing herself to regain composure, Patty began to pace. Back and forth. Finally, she said, “Wh-.” No, she wouldn’t ask what happened. “How?” No. Finally, Patty asked the only thing that mattered. “Where are you?”