Mom’s Friend Ceal

Bill and I decided to run out to the grocery store while Mom was napping in her bedroom. I wrote a note and included my cell number and left it on the seat of the Red Menace in case she woke up before we got home. The note read:

Mom – Running errands.
Back by 2:30
Cell: 602-555-1234

On our way back, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and saw that “Home” was calling. “Must be your mom,” Bill commented. “Yup,” I replied, sliding my thumb across the screen to answer.

A nanosecond after the connection was made, she started talking. “Hello? Hello?” she said loudly. “Is anyone there? Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Hi,” I interjected when she stopped to take a breath. “Are you all right?”

“Well yes I am, thank you,” she responded cordially. “Who is this?”

“It’s Patt, your daughter.”

“Oh,” she exclaimed, obviously surprised and somewhat disappointed. “I wasn’t expecting it to be you.”

“Why not? It’s my cell number.”

“I didn’t recognize it. It had a different area code.”

“Different than what?”

“Different than here. We have 623, don’t we?”

“Yes we do, but Phoenix-metro has three different area codes,” I explained. “623, 602 and 480. So why were you calling? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. I just thought someone had called me while I was asleep and you left me their number, so I was calling them back.”

“No, I left you a note so you’d know we’d gone out for a little while. Who did you think called?”

“I don’t know. Someone named Ceal, maybe. I didn’t recognize the name any more than I recognized the number.”

“It said ‘cell’ Mom, not seal, because it’s my cell number,” I responded with a sigh. “We’ll be home in less than five minutes,” I said, touching the End Call icon and muttering “unless Bill drives off the road from laughing so hard.



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