Close Call, Pt. 2
My cell phone rings the next day while I’m at work. It’s after two p.m. and I had been wondering if I'd hear from him again.
“I don’t have a lot of time, but I wanted to thank you for last night,” David tells me. I can hear the smile in his voice. “I had a great time with you.”
“Me, too,” I answer warmly. “Amazing.”
A moment of silence passes between us. “So,” I ask him, “is this going to be an every Wednesday night thing for us?”
“I’d like it to be,” he replies earnestly. “That would be great.”
But the following day I get a frantic phone call from him while I’m eating lunch at my desk. “We have a problem...Christine got into my email and saw some of your messages."
Oh shit!
The only good thing about this is that there is no possible way those emails can be traced back to me. I had set up an anonymous email account in Yahoo! several weeks ago, just as a precaution in case something like this happened, and my name is not connected to it whatsoever. Still, she is on the warpath, watching and waiting to see what happens next. The idea makes me very uncomfortable.
“Do me a favor,” he continues. I’ll give you my password...can you go into my email now and delete anything you sent me?”
It only takes me a few minutes to do it, and I feel complete relief afterwards. I don’t hear from him for the remainder of the day, and I hope that he’s not going to get into too much trouble.
Saturday morning, I wake up early and check my cell phone before R. gets out of bed. I have a missed call and a new voicemail from a number that I don’t recognize. I lock myself in the bathroom and dial my mailbox.
It’s her. She sounds calm, much calmer than I’d be in her shoes. The message she’s left me instructs me to stop talking to David. She says that they still live together and that they love each other very much, and that I have a husband who I should devote myself to. She’s not comfortable with my friendship with him, she's never met me, and she wants me to stop calling him.
I roll my eyes and chuckle. If she only knew that he was the one who called me ninety percent of the time. But still. What has led her to believe that I was the one who had sent those emails to him? He must have broken down and told her. I feel betrayed by him. Way to throw me under the bus. I would never do that to you.
The rest of the weekend passes in a grey fog. I am distraught, paranoid, heartbroken. Every time my cell phone rings, I answer it immediately, expecting to hear her voice again. But I don’t.
“I don’t have a lot of time, but I wanted to thank you for last night,” David tells me. I can hear the smile in his voice. “I had a great time with you.”
“Me, too,” I answer warmly. “Amazing.”
A moment of silence passes between us. “So,” I ask him, “is this going to be an every Wednesday night thing for us?”
“I’d like it to be,” he replies earnestly. “That would be great.”
But the following day I get a frantic phone call from him while I’m eating lunch at my desk. “We have a problem...Christine got into my email and saw some of your messages."
Oh shit!
The only good thing about this is that there is no possible way those emails can be traced back to me. I had set up an anonymous email account in Yahoo! several weeks ago, just as a precaution in case something like this happened, and my name is not connected to it whatsoever. Still, she is on the warpath, watching and waiting to see what happens next. The idea makes me very uncomfortable.
“Do me a favor,” he continues. I’ll give you my password...can you go into my email now and delete anything you sent me?”
It only takes me a few minutes to do it, and I feel complete relief afterwards. I don’t hear from him for the remainder of the day, and I hope that he’s not going to get into too much trouble.
Saturday morning, I wake up early and check my cell phone before R. gets out of bed. I have a missed call and a new voicemail from a number that I don’t recognize. I lock myself in the bathroom and dial my mailbox.
It’s her. She sounds calm, much calmer than I’d be in her shoes. The message she’s left me instructs me to stop talking to David. She says that they still live together and that they love each other very much, and that I have a husband who I should devote myself to. She’s not comfortable with my friendship with him, she's never met me, and she wants me to stop calling him.
I roll my eyes and chuckle. If she only knew that he was the one who called me ninety percent of the time. But still. What has led her to believe that I was the one who had sent those emails to him? He must have broken down and told her. I feel betrayed by him. Way to throw me under the bus. I would never do that to you.
The rest of the weekend passes in a grey fog. I am distraught, paranoid, heartbroken. Every time my cell phone rings, I answer it immediately, expecting to hear her voice again. But I don’t.
posted by Anonymous at 11/05/2006 08:21:00 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home