The Phone

“Why don’t you use this cell phone? Your son Jonathan bought it for you, so you can call him. You can call anyone,” said Ruth, holding out the phone. As Martha’s visiting home nurse, she attended to all the old woman’s essential needs five days a week.

“No! I told you I’m waiting for the call,” replied Martha, pointing a shaky 92-year old finger at an old black rotary dial telephone collecting dust on her bedroom nightstand. Seated in her wheelchair with a bib around her neck, Martha showed no interest in pulling herself up to the tray table where Ruth had placed her prepared dinner.

“Martha dear, I have told you that old phone does not work anymore. It’s dead. It’s disconnected. Let me show you.”

Ruth lifted the receiver of the old phone and held it to Martha’s ear.

“Do you hear a dial tone? Of course not! The phone is dead. Folks don’t use old phones like this anymore.”

The nurse placed the receiver back into the cradle of the phone. Martha said nothing, showing no emotion and Ruth was unsure if the old lady really understood.

You need to catch up with the times!” She said, as she studied Martha’s face for any sign of comprehension. She was not hopeful. After more than eight years of providing home nursing to Martha, Ruth was certain the old woman was showing serious symptoms of dementia.

“Don’t tell me what to do! I’m EXPECTING a call and I intend to wait!”

“That’s what you always say and guess what? That old phone will never ring! Now why don’t you let me show you how to use the cell phone? I think you’ll like it. It’s very easy,” answered Ruth.

“The call WILL COME any time. I know it will. So don’t you try removing that telephone from the nightstand! That’s my final word!”

Ruth sighed, placing the cell phone in her pocket. It was always the same routine and she was getting bored with it.

“Very well dear. Then, why don’t you pull yourself up to your dinner and eat something? It’s almost time for your nap,” she said as she stepped over to slide down the railing on the large medical bed.

“Don’t distract me! I’m waiting! Besides, I’m not hungry.”

Ruth rolled Martha’s wheelchair forward so that the tray table touched the old woman’s waist. She knew she would have to feed Martha like always, just to get her to eat. She checked her watch to gauge the remaining time on her shift.

Ruth believed Martha’s mental faculties were deteriorating and for months she mulled over what to do. She finally decided she must have a talk with Jonathan. Now in his early sixties, Jonathan built a prosperous real estate business which helped support his wife and two children attending colleges. She called him and they arranged to meet the next day at his office.

The real estate office bustled with customers and agents when Ruth arrived. The office manager instructed her to wait until Jonathan was ready. Ruth waited nearly an hour before the office manager called on her. She grinned politely at the office manager who led her to his office.

“What’s this all about? Is Mom okay?” asked Jonathan abruptly as the nurse appeared.

“Don’t worry! She is fine,” replied Ruth as she approached his desk.

“Well then what’s the problem? Why did you want to talk to me?” asked Jonathan impatiently.

“I’ve been caring for her for over twelve years, as you know.”

“Yes of course. I’m happy with your work. I hope you’re not intending to resign. I think it would be very upsetting to Mom.”

“No, no. I’m not resigning. But I have to tell you I’ve noticed a steady decline in her faculties over the years.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jonathan.

“Well, you are familiar with her rantings about the phone on her nightstand?”

“Oh that! Of course, I should just remove the old damn phone from her room. That’s nothing to worry about.”

“Yes, except it’s all she talks about now. She’s waiting for THE call. She repeats this over and over. I’m afraid she’s rapidly losing her cognitive faculties,” said Ruth cautiously as she watched for Jonathon’s reaction.

“It’s nothing! I’ll just take that phone out and she will forget it ever existed!” declared Jonathan.

“I would like to believe that would work, but I’m afraid it would only make things worse. She would throw a tantrum! Your mother has become more helpless in other ways too. I believe she has reached the point where she requires twenty-four-hour care. I cannot meet all her needs. It is dangerous to leave her alone for very long. I recommend placing her in a nursing facility.”

“A nursing home? I think mother would throw a fit! Besides, I’ve read some horror stories about some of these nursing facilities.”

“I can recommend some reasonably priced facilities where I am confident, she will get very good care.”

“I’m not sure Mom can cope with being in a strange environment. It might kill her,” answered Jonathan. He knitted his brow in a serious expression as he sat back in his chair.

“If I were you, I would be concerned about her survival when I am off duty and she is alone. There is always the danger of falling, or some worse accident. And someone could really do her harm.”

After further coaxing, Jonathan reluctantly agreed to look into it. A month went by as he methodically inspected different nursing homes recommended by Ruth. But fearing the reaction, he made no mention of this to his mother. Once he finally made his selection, he prepared for the day he would move his mother to her new home.

When the day arrived, Jonathan parked the car next to the curb in front of his mother’s house and used his key at the front door to enter. It was a Saturday morning and Ruth was off duty. He stepped into the narrow foyer where he immediately inhaled a peculiar odor vaguely like burning electrical wiring.

“Mom! Are you okay?” he shouted, striding toward her bedroom. Finding her missing, he gasped. He noticed the twisted sheets hanging from her bed, but her wheelchair was missing.

“Mother, where are you??” he cried out. The pungent odor seemed stronger and without notice, Jonathan observed blinking flashes of light brightening the bedroom from the hallway. He swung around to face the open door he had just entered. The hall displayed a pulsating flood of multicolor light.

“Oh my God! Mom, what happened?” he yelped, imagining the worst. Maybe she lay dead after being electrocuted while using an electrical appliance! Maybe she tried to replace a fuse in the old ungrounded fuse box, he thought. He rushed into the hallway. He could see the flashing light emanated from the kitchen at the back of the house. Arriving at the entrance to the kitchen, he found the entire room flickering with a brilliant flood of prismatic light. Jonathan winced. In puzzlement, he shielded his eyes from the intense rainbow glare, holding his hand on his brow like the bill of a cap. What could possibly generate light of this kind, he asked himself.

He coughed from the powerful acerbic odor. He also discovered that the flashing light source originated outside and in the backyard. Jonathan only made out the contours of the kitchen windows and the open backdoor in the blinding flickering glare. Also, facing toward the backyard in the doorway, stood his mother’s empty wheelchair.

“What the hell?? Mother…Mother? Please answer! Where are you? Did you fall? Tell me where you are.” Still shielding his eyes, Jonathan treaded awkwardly into the flashing glare of the open door, nudging the wheelchair forward as he detected a faint hum. The noise grew louder as the prismatic floodlight contracted into a shiny metallic spheroid in midair. It gyrated like a glittering giant mercurial football floating weightless above the ground. Jonathan froze in bewildered shock as the flat steady hum increased to a volume that pressured his ears. After about a minute, the spheroid swung rapidly and effortlessly in an arc above the trees and sailed in a speedy, silent unearthly velocity across the horizon. It then vanished in seconds. With his jaw hanging open, Jonathan could not move. The backyard was empty but there was no sign of his mother. He panicked.

“What the hell was that?” he said breathlessly as he felt his body tremble uncontrollably. Feeling like the spectacle was probably over after several minutes, he went back to searching the house. But the angst never left him.

“Mother, can you hear me?” he cried out as he roamed. I might have to report this to the police, but I better make no mention of what I saw in the backyard or they would certainly think I’m crazy, he thought.

Jonathan wandered confused and aimless through the house as he called out to his mother, but increasingly he began to feel like he was searching for a corpse. He realized that he had overlooked the living room and dining room. Never used, the curtains were always drawn on these rooms making this part of the house dark at all times. Jonathan flipped on the wall switch next to door that lead into the living room. He immediately heard a ringing. This ringing jingled like an old phone, not like the cute ringtones of a cell phone. It chimed like a childhood memory in his head. The ringing persisted, and it appeared to come from the direction of his mother’s bedroom. All of this seemed quite impossible and he had already experienced his share of impossibilities during this day.

Still, he followed the ringing back into the bedroom where there appeared to be no doubt about its origin. Yet, there could be no rational explanation for this. The persistent jingle of the old rotary phone demanded that he answer it. He could not ignore it. He went over to the old phone and lifted the receiver to his ear.

“Hello?” he said, with an incredulous gasp.

“Hello Jonny, dear? Is that you?”

“Mother?”

“Yes, it’s your dear old mother! You see I-I got THE CALL, dear! I knew I would. I got THE CALL!”

Comments