Page 62 of Too Old for This
Morgan is more perceptive than I realized. “I’m havingphone issues with texting. Tell her I’m sorry I wasn’t more effusive about the photo.”
Silence.
“Can you call her?” he says.
Yes. Of course I can call the (very) young woman who is carrying my third grandchild and explain that I don’t hate her dresses, even though I sort of do.
I hang up with Archie and dial her number. Morgan doesn’t pick up until the third ring.
“Hello, dear. I wanted to call and chat for a minute about these lovely pictures you’ve been sending me. I’ve been having an awful time with my phone lately, so I apologize if my texts have been a little abrupt.”
Pause.
“Thank you for letting me know,” she says. “I really value your opinion, and I really wanted to know your thoughts.” She sounds sincere, which makes me feel worse.
“Your style is very distinctive, and the dresses are very ‘you.’ So I think they’re perfect.”
Morgan sounds relieved, or does a pretty good job of faking it. I stare at my laptop, which I’ve been doing for a while now. Though I’ve become fairly proficient at internet searches, not everything is that easy. Technology can be so time-consuming.
But not to young people like Morgan.
“Do you know a lot about computers?” I say.
“Umm, sure. I’m not a hacker or anything, but I can use them.”
“Let me ask you something.”
CHAPTER 34
My breakfast nook has become a workstation. The computer is set up, my prepaid is fully charged, and everything feels ready.
I take a chance and call in the evening. Might be too early, but I do it anyway.
“Harmony Hotel. How may I direct your call?” The woman is quick and to the point. Friendly is not her style. Fine by me.
I hit a button on the laptop and hold my phone up to the speaker. A man’s voice comes out.
“Norma Dixon’s room, please.”
“One moment.”
A click, followed by another ringing phone. My finger hovers over the mouse, ready to tap on a response if she answers. This would be a lot easier with a voice-changing app so I could speak the words in real time, but my prepaid is not a smartphone.
Morgan helped me set this up. I told her it was for answering the phone or talking through the front door when I don’t want anyone to know I’m home alone. Those excuses felt a little shameful. It hurt to admit a weakness out loud, even if it was a lie. And it hurt more that she was so quick to believe every word.
“I get it,” she said. “When I first lived by myself, I kept a baseball bat behind the front door.”
“I’m not sure I’d have the strength to swing a bat these days.”
“Maybe you need a stun gun,” she said. “They’re supposed to be very easy to use.”
“Is that right?”
“I’ll look into them for you, if you want,” she said.
“That would be so kind. Thank you.”
It was probably the best conversation I’ve ever had with Morgan. Helpful, too. If she hadn’t been around to guide me through setting up this app, it would’ve taken me a lot more time.
