Directory Assistance

While waiting for the barista to foam my chai latte yesterday morning,  I called a client to confirm our appointment later in the day. I'm an insufferable multi-tasker which often results in mistakes as this story intends to illustrate. However, sometimes what initially appears to be a clumsy blunder turns out to be a synchronistic moment of backhanded clarity.

Because A and I had made our appointment through email exchanges, I wanted to be sure we were on the same page as we'd changed the time and day several times already. When she answered the phone, I said, "Hey! I got you for real--as in a real person talking to another person in real time."

She said, "This is A."

"I know. This Ellie. I called you."

"But I don't have email."

It took me a moment to realize I'd clicked on a different A in my phone book, one I thought I'd deleted after two years of trying to repair a friendship that at one time was all love and light then suddenly pulled out of my grasp for reasons I may never understand.

"Oh. A. I'm sorry. I was trying to reach a client who has the same name and I must have..."

"I was just thinking about you."

"You were?"

"Yeah."

"So, how are you?"

"Great. Selling off the business and retiring next year."

"That's wonderful. Are you and J moving to Greece?"

A tiny silence interrupted our awkward conversation as we separately tasted a memory of three weeks spent traveling through ancient lands.

" I think we both need to exhale for a bit."

"Well, good. That's good. You should rest. Maybe cash in on the massages I owe you."

"You don't owe me any massages."

"I know. But the Universe does, and I happen to be a provider."

An awkward silence ensued as I struggled to wrap my brain around the breakdown of what I thought was the kind of love built to withstand anything or anyone, let alone a simple difference of opinion.

"I was just saying to J how good a massage would feel and how good yours were and, well, you know."

"I know." I took a sip of my drink. "They still are, Sweetheart."

Like the warm chai running down my throat, I felt something melt between us, soften just a enough to let in a little light. It reminded me of that first morning in Athens, where we watched the sun rise over the Acropolis from our hotel rooftop.

"It's good to hear your voice."

"Yeah. You, too."

"You better call the other A."

"Right. Well you take care. Give my love to J."

"I will. Bye, Ellie."

I drove home thinking about how I thought I'd let that whole thing go--forgiven A for her judgments of me, forgiven myself for allowing them to have so much power over my well-being at the time. But letting go doesn't usually happen in one big chunk. We carry heartbreak around like a tumor, breaking off little pieces one at a time then waiting for the scab to heal before releasing another piece. Sometimes you get lucky. Sometimes someone reaches out and snaps off a jagged edge when you least expect it, then kisses the exposed wound with a soft word or two before you have a chance to cry out.

Sometimes all it takes is dialing a wrong number.

Comments

[Daisy]

Dammit, I'm fighting back the tears Ellie. Time for me to call a wrong number I think.

[thank you]

[pioneer spirit]

Sounds like some heavy baggage was just unloaded. I envy you the emotion. I've had it before and it's wonderful. I am desirous of having a similar release with my beloved sister who has, this year, become estranged-for unknown reasons which I can only assume include a misunderstanding of some sort. You've inspired me to try harder to get a response from her. Thanks

[Gus]

Well put sis. Maybe I'll "accidentaly" call my old best friend. And yes..I left a comment. :) Good stuff sweety.
Gus

[Fran]

I remember when all this was coming down, Ellie, and how sad it made you. This was a divine mistake, I think--your paths are crossing again.