Wrong Number Blues

Wrong numbers aren’t usually very entertaining, but my cousin Mona once got a humdinger in the middle of the night. Well, it was more like morning, actually. Mona had been pulling some very long hours in between work and a houseful of kids ranging in ages from toddlers to teenagers. Bless her heart. She was out of it when the call came in! For a while Mona thought the phone was ringing in her dream, but she was finally able to pry her eyes open after the fifth or sixth ring. She said her husband must’ve been in a deep sleep, too. It didn’t look like he had any plans to get it, so she picked up the phone on her side of the bed as she glanced at the clock, 2:25 A.M. What in the world?

“Hello,” Mona said.

There was a slight pause and a deep breath before a girl’s voice rushed breathlessly into a lengthy speech, “Mom, this is Crystal. I’m sorry for waking y’all up but I didn’t know what else to do. I had to call. I’m at the police department downtown. Please don’t be mad. I’m not in jail, Mom, but my date is and he hadn’t really had that much to drink, Mom, and neither had I. We think the cops were picking on us, Mom—Mom?”

About that time the girl took a breath, which gave my cousin her first opportunity to interrupt the running speech. “Sweetie,” Mona said gently. She was awake now and full of compassion. “I’m so sorry but I’m afraid you’ve reached the wrong number. I don’t have a daughter named Crystal.”

Mona said that only served to upset the girl that much more. She could barely make out the teenager’s next words through the girl’s heavy sobs.

“Mom,” she cried. “I knew you’d be upset, but I never thought you’d be this mad!”

Hugs,
Shellie