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But ... God. It seemed so real. The voice and all. Bobby J. How did the old saying go? Dream of the dead, hear from the living? Or was it hear from the dead, dream of ... No, that didn't make sense. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Then got up.
Pulling on her bathrobe, she tiptoed to the bedroom door, eased it open. Arnold was asleep, breathing quietly, his oxygen cannula in place on his upper lip. She watched him awhile, his face ashen in the pale glow of the night light. Remembering how strong he'd seemed a year ago. Even six months ago. Like a rock. Almost indestructible. And now...? Every labored breath was a struggle.
Easing the door closed, Sharron padded back to bed, still trying to shake off the spell of her dream. A magical midnight phone call. From Bobby Jacks. Her long-lost and very dead love.
Too weird. What on earth brought that on? Probably the pills. She'd been taking too many of them lately. Couldn't get to sleep without them anymore. Knew she was on a downhill slide, heading for deep trouble. But sometimes it seemed like pills were the only friends she had left.
As she reached up to turn off the light, Sharron noticed the telephone number winking in the Caller-ID window. Long distance. Didn't recognize the area code. Heaven? Knowing Bobby, purgatory would be a lot more likely. Or hell.
Curious now, she tapped the Identify tab. “Unavailable.” What the heck did that mean? What kind of phone number was unavailable?
She knew only one way to find out. Didn't care for it much, but ... Shaking her head at her own foolishness, Sharron tapped Last Number Redial. It rang once, twice, three times. No answer. But as she started to hang up, she heard someone pick up at the other end.
"Hola?
Hello? Iss anybody there?” A man's voice, but definitely not Bobby. Foreign accent. Hispanic, maybe? “Hello?”
“Look, um...” Sharron coughed, unable to speak. “What number have I reached, please?”
“Number?” The foreign voice read it back.
“And ... where is that?”
“What you mean?”
