The phone by the bed rang. It was the worst possible time.
Because it was the worst possible time, the ringing was strident to them both. Although it was a trivial thing, they looked at each other and, for a moment, could not decide what to do.
It was the third day of their honeymoon; or more precisely the third night. Since they both had heavy workloads, they had rented a sequestered cabin in the country, planning to stay there for a week and not go anywhere.
Until that moment, these three days had been the happiest of their lives—when two lovers finally integrate physically as well as spiritually, the pleasure is almost beyond description.
They were both young, healthy, and full of life. The physical attraction, one for the other, was at its peak. Thus, they spent most of their time in the cabin indulging themselves in sexual love again and again.
Since they had not told anyone that they would be there, there should have been no one trying to call them. Nevertheless, the phone rang, a little past midnight just as they were steeped in indescribable ecstasy.
The phone rang and rang. As he finally half-sat up she panted lightly, “The owner knows we’re honeymooning, so it must be a wrong number; but I think you’d better answer it.”
He stretched out his hand but could barely reach the phone. He did not want to leave her body even for a short while and actually wanted to yank out the cord, but thought better. So, with a tacit expression of understanding, they both budged at the same time.
She looked a little bashful, but that made her eyes especially enchanting. He took a deep breath and hoped the ringing would just stop. However, the phone kept ringing. He had no choice but to pick it up. “Hello?” he said with much reluctance.
For a few seconds the other end was silent. This annoyed him, and he said hello once again. Then, just as he was about to hang up, he heard a hesitant voice ask, “Who is this?”
He was incensed, and she was confused. She held him tightly. Neither said a word. Then he shouted, “Who are you calling?”
He did not know why he had asked back. Was it because the line was unclear, or just because the call came at the worst time? Anyway, his thoughts were all jumbled now.
The voice at the other end spoke again more hesitantly, “I’d … I’d like to speak to Miss …”
Then it came, a last name, a very rare last name. It meant that the person had not dialed a wrong number—the name could only be hers, his bride’s!
He looked at her with great doubt and noticed that her face was also full of puzzlement. She twisted her tender lips into an expression of inquiry, asking him if the call was for her. He nodded and handed it to her.
She moved slightly as she got the phone. He wanted to keep a little distance from her but was stopped by her eyes and hands.
Then she took a deep breath and said, “Hello, who is this …?”
He could still hear the person at the other end of on the line clearly—partly because it was so quiet there, partly because that person was shouting so loudly, and also because the line was so distortion free and he was just by her side. The person calling was addressing his wife by her nickname, her nickname! It sounded as if they were very familiar with one another.
Then he heard the voice from the phone say, “Who was that guy who answered the phone?”
The tone of that question was not only suspicious but also very stern—as if the person had the right to ask her in this manner.
Looking at her, he felt shocked and enraged. The only thing in his mind at this moment was exactly the same question that came from the phone, ”Who was that guy?”
She did not notice that his eyes were filled with disbelief, since she was also full of disbelief, and the disbelief even reflected upon her pretty face which, just a little while before, had been so radiant with blissfulness.
She pondered for a while and did not know how to respond, but the person at the other end could not wait any longer. Calling her name again, still her nickname, he then asked her in a harsher tone, “Tell me! Who? Who the heck picked up the phone?”
She finally pulled herself together and asked with a slight stammer, “Who, who are you?”
After a short pause, the response came with great consternation, “Can’t you even recognize my voice? Or are you just pretending because you’re afraid that the guy knows…you…you… Is this the way you treat me … you … you …”
Her name came up several times as he shouted. Although his shouting was replete with anger, it was also obviously full of passion and love.
She was confused and anxious. It came all of a sudden, and she just did not know what to do, nor had she any thought of defending herself. But he could not stand it any more and, snatching the receiver from her hand, shouted “Go to hell …” and banged it back down.
He did not realize until that moment that he had already been away from her, God knows for how long.
The atmosphere after that was enough to break her heart into bits. She repeated at least one thousand times, “I have no idea who it was. He must have gotten a wrong number, or maybe he’s a maniac, or some kind of troublemaker …”
He did not speak or even look at her, but just stared at the ceiling with both hands under his head. She prostrated herself over him trying her best to tease and excite him, only there was no response. But she did not give up until she felt disgusted.
There was still no response.
Neither of them slept after that nor did they speak to each other. They just lay on the bed with their eyes open until dawn. When twilight arrived, he finally opened his mouth and said, “We should get back, we both have lots of work. It’s not much fun here anyway.”
She responded passively, “All right!”
Apparently, the chasm in the marriage emerged at this time; however, they still managed for one more year before they got divorced.
It was not long before she met another man. He was almost perfect and was an ideal lover. She felt that his passion was as hot as fire—hot enough to turn her into ash. Nevertheless, she was quite willing to become ash if it was necessary. She did not know the reason, but his voice seemed so familiar; and that was why she had paid more attention to him when they first met.
Her new boyfriend was very romantic. He would often wait outside her house holding a bunch of flowers early in the morning, just wanting her to get her favorite bouquet as she stepped out.
One night, after a wonderful time, he accompanied her home and then left. Later, her doorbell rang and she went to open the door, only to find him red-faced at the entrance. He jumped in and shouted huffing, “Who was the man … the one who answered my call just now?”
She had no idea what happened, “Who did you call? What are you talking about?”
His face grew even redder, “What am I talking about? I just called you, but there was a man answered my call, then when I talked to you, that son of a bitch grasped the phone and said GO TO HELL and then banged the phone … Just tell me where he is, I’ll kill him! …”
At that moment, she suddenly realized what was he talking about, and recognized who it was who called the cabin a year ago! She began to tremble, not knowing how to explain all of this …
© 1974, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved.
