The phone rings. I expect it to be the Blockbuster robot, reminding me of my overdue copy of This Gun For Hire, but instead it's a suburban telephone number. I pick up the phone curiously.
"HELLO!" my mother crows jubilantly. "HOW ARE YOU, HONEY?"
"Where are you?" I ask. "Are you at Mary's?" Mary is her longtime friend who lives in Lombard. Mary's mother is sick, so I wonder if perhaps my mother has come to the suburbs to comfort her friend.
"I AM USING A NOKIA!" she continues. She sounds sloppily excited, as though she's been hitting the Franzia again.
"But where are you?" I continue.
"AT HOME! I'M USING A NOKIA CELL PHONE! YOUR BROTHER GAVE IT TO YOUR FATHER FOR FATHER'S DAY!"
Oh Jesus. I can see where this is all headed: lots of phone calls from Target ("they have Hanes Her Way briefs on sale, honey, do you need some?"), calls while driving, and the inevitable call to complain about the inevitably high mobile bill. It's very sweet to think that my father will use the phone, but in our family there's only one big talker, and that person does not share any of his genes.
"HELLO!" my mother crows jubilantly. "HOW ARE YOU, HONEY?"
"Where are you?" I ask. "Are you at Mary's?" Mary is her longtime friend who lives in Lombard. Mary's mother is sick, so I wonder if perhaps my mother has come to the suburbs to comfort her friend.
"I AM USING A NOKIA!" she continues. She sounds sloppily excited, as though she's been hitting the Franzia again.
"But where are you?" I continue.
"AT HOME! I'M USING A NOKIA CELL PHONE! YOUR BROTHER GAVE IT TO YOUR FATHER FOR FATHER'S DAY!"
Oh Jesus. I can see where this is all headed: lots of phone calls from Target ("they have Hanes Her Way briefs on sale, honey, do you need some?"), calls while driving, and the inevitable call to complain about the inevitably high mobile bill. It's very sweet to think that my father will use the phone, but in our family there's only one big talker, and that person does not share any of his genes.
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