Page 26 of One More Round

“Really, again?” I mutter.

1-234-5555:OK … leaving me hanging I see …

Whatever, I don’t know you. And I’m not all about talking to random people. I know some people like to have fun with wrong number calls and texts, but I don’t have time for that. Again, I swipe and delete.

This actually used to happen to me all the time. About a year ago, I started getting these calls from an older lady, she sounded like she was in her late 60s and when I would answer, she would ask for Lou. I’d tell her it was the wrong number and she would apologize and hang up. But I started getting a call every week. She called one night, and I told her as nicely as possible that she has been calling the wrong number for months; to please check the number she had. She was friendly but so confused.

“Well, if Lou isn’t there, can I speak to her husband, Jeb?” she asked. I hung my head in frustration.

“No, ma’am. You have the wrong number, there is no Lou here and no Jeb. I also think you’ve asked for an Eric as well in the past. It’s just me, and I’ve had this number for about five years now.”

“Oh. Well, why didn’t you just say so, dear? I would have stopped calling the wrong number.”

With a heavy sigh, I said goodbye and we hung up. From that point, I stopped answering unknown calls and texts. She never called back, by the way.

My groan is accompanied by an eye roll when, once again, my phone pings. Damn it. I am going to have to text back. I grab my phone, ready to unload on this wrong number person, but I’m surprised when I read the next text.

1-234-5555:I’m guessing that you don’t know who this is. You’re probably just deleting my texts.

What the frack?

Should I even reply? Who could this be? They could still have the wrong number.

I weigh my options for a few minutes.

1-234-5555:Shit. I just realized how creepy that sounded.

1-234-5555:It’s Simon, btw.

My eyes go wide at the screen. While I’m relieved I don’t have some crazy unknown creep harassing me, and possibly trying to catfish me, I’m equally confused (if not a little giddy) with the fact that it’s Simon. Why would he be texting me?

Me:Yeah, kinda creepy.

Me:Hey back, btw.

1-234-5555:Sorry. I figured you had my number. Morgan seems like the kind of person who would have backup emergency contacts for ppl, so I assumed …

Me:You know what they say when you assume.

1-234-5555:I know, Mom … you make an ass out of you and me.

Me:Haha. Just channeling my inner Mrs. Palmer.

OK, so we are doing this. This is a good start. Texting is easy, no awkward lulls in conversation. He’s probably right though, it’s good to have his number in a case of emergency.

Simon:Would you have eventually texted back?

Me:Nope, you were one text away from being blocked.

I see the little bubbles pop up and then go away. And minutes pass. I wonder what’s going on over in his apartment and then I reread my reply.

My face starts to heat when I realize what I said. That I was about to block his number.Aaah!

Shiitake mushrooms. Apparently, this is a sore subject since it’s what I did years ago.

Did I make him mad? Would he even realize that I blocked his number? Has he decided to stop texting me because he remembered?

I throw myself backward onto my bed and let out a distressed groan slash cry.

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