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The Eclectic Pen - How many telephone minutes in a day? I need a new title

By: Margaret S. (morgan2010)  
Date Submitted: 4/13/2007
Last Updated: 4/13/2007
Genre: Biographies & Memoirs » Family & Childhood
Words: 841
Rating:

I’m on the phone,” I now yelled, for the 2nd time. I can hear confusion in the background, but, it’s far enough away that I can ignore it, for the moment. “What?” Said Mr. Wonderful. Who’s Mr. Wonderful? You know the one I am talking about. That wonderful guy that I said for better or for worse with, years ago has just marched into my office, as if a message from Caesar was about to be delivered, “Your daughter is on her way.” As I continue to talk on telephone and type on my computer, I shake my head, answering “Yes I got it, my daughters on the way.” The messenger feels I haven’t GOT IT. That I haven’t understood the importance of The Message, and again says, “Your daughters on the way.” Putting a lot of emphasis on Your Daughter. Knowing how much I love that kid and wouldn’t want to disappoint her. He continues the message with, “She said she’s on her lunch, and she needs for you to be ready.” I’m still laughing at this point, with the phone stuck to my ear; because my partner in crime has just told me her husband does the same thing to her. Always coming in while she’s on the phone, and acting like every question he has is from the president of the United States. And the world is awaiting her answer. Most of the time her answer is “Yes Frank, Sarah can have the last piece of pie.” The messenger has turned and exited the room, but I know it’s only a brief reprise. Returning with letters and checks in hand, he begins to explain that the address on the letter is where to mail the check. In all fairness, it has been more than two months since I mailed the Com Ed bill out, but I probably could have figured this out on my own. My husband is on a mission now, and I am the target. Even though I am now talking softer, hoping to get in a few more minutes of conversation, I know its only minutes before I am forced to hang up. Ah Oh, make that seconds. Bob has retreated to the front room and is now yelling at me, " Margaret's in the driveway." She told him I had to be ready. I feel bad for making him take on the responsibility for my crime THE LACK OF CARING, so I tell my friend, “Times up, I gotta go,” but she continues with, “ Now as a Christian wife, can you, with Christ like love, talk about this with your husband?” “You mean that guy in the front room yelling, “Times up, she here.” “Naw, I don’t think so, I’ll call later.” I said, hanging up with still so much more to say and no time to say it. Bob is standing up, with his hands behind his back. A favorite stance for General Patton. While staring out the front window with his back to me, he continues to issue a personal message for me, “I know you have a lot to do. Don’t worry about me. I’ll transfer the phones when I leave for lunch. Take all the time you need.” Never once looking back, he continues to stare out the window, so I believe MES must really be parked on the street, waiting for me and I have just the smallest twinge of guilt, for making her wait. “Bob, I’m ready to go right now, I have everything I need,” sounding as if, I too am in the battle for the universe. Now, I was determined to complete my missions before the time ran out. As I look out onto the street, I realize there was no car parked out there. “Is Margaret in the driveway?” I asked confused. “NO. But she will be here any moment,” and Bob adds, “She said she was only 5 minutes away.” He had really been hoping and possibly praying that she really was 5 minutes away from the house and by the time I got my coat on, she would be in the driveway and all his concerns would be justified. I am sure he was trying to will her to be there before I got off the phone (prematurely). As I walked out the back door, to stand in the empty driveway, and wait for my daughter, who always says, “I’ll be there in 5 minutes”, no matter how far away she is, I realized that my husband, like all men, like to feel the world has a purpose, and they have a job in that world. As my daughter pulled into the driveway, I looked back at our big picture window, figuring I would wave at Bob, so he would know “All was well.” But, Bob had gone back to work. “I guess the messenger figured his job had been completed.” I mumbled to myself. This one is for you and me Arleen, and I bet you thousands of other women as well!

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by Margaret S. (morgan2010)

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