Landline(31)

Maybe you should get a change of underwear when you go home to get your wall charger, her brain said.

Maybe you should shut up, Georgie thought back at it.

After she was dressed, she sat on her bed and looked at the rotary phone.

Time to deal with this.

She picked up the receiver and steadily dialed Neal’s parents’ house.

His mom picked up after the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi . . . Mrs. Grafton,” Georgie said.

“Yes?”

“It’s Georgie.”

“Oh, hi, Georgie. Neal’s still asleep. He must have been up pretty late. Do you want him to call you back?”

“No. I mean, just tell him I’ll call later. Actually, I already told him I’d call later. But—I was going to ask him something.” She couldn’t ask about the president; that would seem mental. . . . “Do you happen to know who the Speaker of the House is?”

Neal’s mom hummed. “It’s Newt Gingrich, isn’t it? Did it change?”

“No,” Georgie said. “I think that’s right. His name was at the tip of my tongue.” She leaned closer to the base of the phone. “Thanks. Um, bye. Thanks.” She dropped the receiver onto the hook and stood up suddenly, taking a few steps away.

Then she dropped to her knees and crawled under the bed, reaching for the telephone outlet and unclicking the plug. She pulled the cord away, then backed out from the bed and crawled to the opposite wall, staring at the nightstand.

She had to deal with this.

It was still happening.

She had to deal with it.



Possibilities:



1. Persistent hallucination.

2. Really long dream. (Or maybe normal-length dream, perceived as really long from the inside?) 3. Schizophrenic episode.

4. Unprovoked Somewhere in Time scenario.

5. Am already dead? Like on Lost?

6. Drug use. Unrecalled.

7. Miracle.

8. Interdimensional portal.

9. It’s a Wonderful Life? (Minus angel. Minus suicide. Minus quasirational explanation.) 10. Magic f*cking phone.



She had to deal with this.

She sat in the car and plugged in her iPhone. No missed calls from Neal. From thirty-seven-year-old, real Neal. (Why wasn’t he calling her? Was he really this pissed? Neal, Neal, Neal!) She dialed his cell phone and didn’t even flinch when his mom answered.

“Georgie?”

“Margaret.”

“I knew it was you this time,” his mom said, “because I saw your photo on the phone. Who are you supposed to be? A robot?”

“The Tin Man. Hey, Margaret, who’s the Speaker of the House?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Isn’t it that Republican with the piercing eyes?”

“I don’t know,” Georgie said, realizing that she really didn’t. Who came after Nancy Pelosi? “It’s not Newt Gingrich, though, right?”

“Oh, no,” Margaret said. “Didn’t he just run for president? Are you doing a crossword?”

That would have been an excellent cover; she should have told the other Margaret she was doing a crossword. “Yes,” Georgie said, “hey, can I talk to Neal?”

“He just stepped out.”

Of course he did.

“Didn’t he call you yesterday?” Margaret asked. “I told him you called.”

“I must have missed him,” Georgie said.

“Here’s Alice, do you want to talk to Alice? Alice, come say hi to your mom. . . .”

“Hello?” Alice sounded far away.

“Alice?”

“Talk louder, Mommy, I can’t hear you.” She sounded like she was sitting across the room from the phone.

“Alice!” Georgie tipped her own phone away from her ear and shouted. “Pick up the phone!”

“I am!” Alice shouted. “But Dawn says you shouldn’t put cell phones on your head, or you’ll get cancer!”

“That’s not true.”

“What?”

“That’s not true!” Georgie yelled.

“Dawn said! Dawn’s a nurse!”

“Meow!”

“Is that Noomi? Let me talk to Noomi!”

“I don’t want Noomi to get cancer.”

“Put me on speaker phone, Alice.”

“I don’t know how.”

“It’s the button that says ‘speaker’!”

“Oh . . . like this?”

Georgie put the phone back to her ear. “Can you hear me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Alice, you’re not going to get cancer from the cell phone. Especially not from a few minutes on the cell phone.”

“Meow.”

Alice sighed. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mommy, but you’re not a nurse. Or a doctor. Or a scientist.”

“A scientist!” Noomi said, giggling. “Scientists make potions.”

“How are you guys?” Georgie asked.

“Fine,” they both said. Why did Georgie even ask that question? It always made them clam right up. She’d be better off arguing with them about brain cancer.

“Where’s Daddy?”