I felt a drop of sweat roll down my forehead as I poked at my smart phone screen with a single trembling finger. The soft tone that accompanied each number tore through the anxious silence in my brain like bursts of cannon fire. I swallowed hard as the call went through.
One ring.
Two.
"Shit," I said out loud, wiping the palm of one free hand on the leg of my jeans. The worn, filthy denim couldn't absorb the sweat, so my hand was just as wet when I pulled it away.
Three.
Four.
I traced the outline of the End Call button.
Five.
"Hello?" said a female voice.
It really was her.
"Who is this?" she asked. There was a touch of anxiety in her voice.
"Hu-Hi Karen," I said. "This is Jack."
Karen sighed hard enough to blow out the little microphone on her phone. I tried to picture the scene in my mind. She'd have whatever the latest iPhone was, or some trendy thing like that. I could see her, head cocked, phone pinned between her ear and her shoulder and mostly covered by wisps of baby fine red hair.
"How did you get this number?" she demanded.
"Yeah, about that," I said flatly. "Believe it or not I dreamed of it last night. I can't believe it's your real-"
"What did you just say?" she said, suddenly breathless.
"I dreamed about you last night, and you gave me this number. Honest."
"Oh shit. Oh SHIT. Oh shit."
She never cursed unless she was really mad.
"Look, I'm sorry ok? I don't know why that happened, but I see your point. I guess this is creepy and I'm sorry."
"No, shut up. I mean, yes this is creepy, but not just for the obvious reasons.” I heard muffled banging sounds on her end of the phone. "Tell me as much as you can about the dream."
"There's not that much to tell. You were standing in front of me." I decided not to tell her she was naked and soaking wet. "You held out an apple. Your eyes were weird. Empty. You read off the digits of the number and then you smiled at me." I could have written poetry about her smile. I missed the way it brightened up her face and opened up little dimples at the edge of her soft, thin, pink lips. Back when I kissed them, they tasted like peach flavored lip balm. When I woke up I was crying. I left that little detail out, too.
"What kind of apple was it?" she asked. There was real panic in her voice now.
"I don't know. It wasn't a bright red one. It was one of those red and yellow ones."
"Oh FUCK! Oh god. Oh shit." With each explicative she pounded on something wooden, maybe a kitchen table or a computer desk.
"Did you have the same dream?"
"No! Well, yes, actually... sort of. It's hard to explain. Goddamn it! I didn't mean to drag you into this. It was an accident when I thought of you. I didn't mean to. You just kind of popped in there."
"That happens to me too," I said. "You just kind of pop into my head."
"No, stop that. Listen, I think you need to fly to Chicago, like, as soon as you can. I mean, like right now."
"I would really like to see you too-“
"Stop it! This isn't about that. This phone line is probably tapped. They’ll come after you. Fuck, I shouldn't even be talking to you. I should have just hung up the phone. This is SUCH a complete FUCK UP. "
I had no idea what to say to that, so I kept my mouth shut. I heard the faint clicking of a computer keyboard from her end.
"Ok, you still live in Pittsburgh, right? Can you get to the airport in an hour? You should be able to make it through security in time to catch the eleven forty five. Maybe we can get you off the plane before... I don't even know. Can you make it, or what?"
"Um, yeah I guess so. This is pretty sudden. Maybe we shouldn’t move too fast, you know?" I was playing coy and hoping she hadn’t heard me shoving clothes into my overnight bag a few moments earlier.
"Shut up. I'll meet you at the airport. I'm sorry about this." Click. She was gone.