The phone rings. I hear a click when the old man answers. But no voice.
“Hello?” I say.
But I only hear rustling on the other end of the line. “Hold on!” says the elderly voice. “I’ve dropped my dang phone in the couch!”
So I wait. And wait. I can swear I hear a hand grasping, searching for a dropped phone. Finally the voice comes through. “Phew! Sorry, my phone dropped between my cushions, and I was trying to put my hearing aid in at the same time. Sorry.”
“Is this Stuart?”
“I’m Stuart.”
“Hi, Stuart. I’m calling because your wife said you had a story for me.”
“Yeah, I got a story. Are we ready to start? Do you have a pencil ready?”
“Actually, it’s a gel pen.”
“You gonna ask questions, or should I just start talking?”
I’m thankful he says this because interviews are hard enough for me as it is. But phone interviews are WAY harder when I have to think up more leading questions while simultaneously taking notes. It’s a lot like trying to walk and chew bubblegum while reading Marcel Proust in
the original French at the same time.
“You know what, Stuart? You just start talking, I’ll listen.”
He clears his throat. “Okay, but you’ll be sorry. My wife says when you pull my string I can talk for hours.”
Then he proves his point.
“You see, it’s a long story. I’s a kid when it all happened. I fell off a patio balcony, almost two stories down, I don’t remember much. All I know’s I was out cold.”
“I see.”
“So then I hear screaming from my mom, and my little brother, and something’s off, ‘cause I can see them, but I’m floating above them.”
“Floating.” I stopped writing.
“That’s right. Floating. Didn’t anyone warn you I was crazy?” He laughs.
What in God’s name have I gotten myself into.
He…