In the meantime, here's a nugget that has nothing to do with the novel, but might be more interesting.
This morning I saw I had missed a phone call at 2:14 AM. The number was blocked, but there was a voicemail. It featured a frenetic young female, who had the following to say:
"[fumbling] I've been outside... for FOUR hours waiting for you! Why would you tell me to come to your house, and we drive all the way there, and then not come outside?! What's WRONG with you??? Goodbye!"
I have no idea who this person is. But then again, maybe I do. Clearly she has some history with whoever she meant to call, which would indicate to me that she has this person's number stored in her phone. Hence, this was probably not a random misdial, but an incorrect selection from a list --- somebody who has my number stored in their phone along with the actual perpetrator (assuming he or she is not me). Does the guilty party's name also begin with "J?" Am I a victim of alphabetical circumstance? And which of my friends, or associates (come to think of it there may be a few undesirables who have my phone number too), was left stood up and scorned last night?
Thing is, the timing of this message is serendipitous. Yesterday morning I arranged with a friend to have lunch, but because I answered an e-mail she'd sent the day before, I misinterpreted "tomorrow" to mean today, Friday, instead of yesterday, Thursday (get all that?). Thus, I left her waiting for a no-show, and because I suck at answering my phone, I missed both her calls inquiring where I was, and did not realize my mistake until later that night.
I was cordially forgiven, lunch was rescheduled, and the angry voicemail sounded nothing like her. Still, the incident primed me to have faith in my boundless absent-mindedness, my capacity to leave poor girls stranded. For a brief and fun-filled moment, lasting perhaps two to three seconds, I panicked. Frantically I ran down my list of out-of-town friends, ex-girlfriends, etc., trying to match voices, checking that my door was locked.
I quickly calmed down, assuming it must have been a mistake. Curiosity is killing me, but the identity of my caller will remain a mystery, I'm guessing. If I wake up tomorrow with my testicles removed, though, I hope she at least leaves a signed note.
The Savior Complex
1 month ago