Suddenly, Harvey began operating a leaf blower inside my head. “You’ve got to get control of yourself.” I said this aloud but, as soon as the words left my lips, the phone rang again. Pulling it from my pants pocket, I sat on the bed and looked. Same number. Suddenly, a dry sensation invaded my mouth. I felt partially paralyzed . . . like the day I had my tonsils out and made the slow climb out of anesthesia. I couldn’t answer because I couldn’t speak, and yet, I was just as afraid to hear the message. Four rings. A generic voice requesting a reply, and then . . . .
“I know you’re listening, Beth. Not to worry, sweetheart. We don’t have a date tonight. That will come later. Good-night again.”
“I know you’re listening, Beth. Not to worry, sweetheart. We don’t have a date tonight. That will come later. Good-night again.”
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