Nancy’s voice sounded petulant and angry this time, like a small child who found another occupying her favorite seat. My Mom had answered the phone this time, while I spent my day off sitting at overly small desks during Grandparents and Special Friends at Kevin’s school (Essentially I followed my little brother through his normal morning routine, listening to lessons in class, evaluating his progress, and introducing myself to his cute single teachers — and unsuccessfully concealing my innate aura of desperation.).
Again the phone rang during lunch. “Hello,” Mom said.
“Yes, I am calling from the hospital. Is your husband available?” Mom answered no, that he was still at work but would be home at . . .
“I asked him to call me yesterday before four. I made that clear. Yet he did not call me. Now I have to call again today.”
Mom of course has no response for this obvious fact. She informs Nancy that we had called Dad concerning the message and gave him her phone number. To Mom’s knowledge, Dad had indeed talked to someone at the hospital. Who, she could not be sure, but he was aware of his medical restrictions before the surgery.
“Hmph . . . well, he did not talk to me. Be sure that he calls me before four this afternoon.”
“Oh, well, alright. Good . . .”
” . . . bye.”