LIFE ON THE INSIDE
Part I: Little Friday
Here’s where it began
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The Thursday I learned my son was in jail was preceded by a Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of my waking each of those days and thinking it was Thursday. Or, more accurately, hoping it was Thursday. Very strange since there was nothing special happening on Thursday, April 6.
It wasn’t payday. It wasn’t mani-pedi day. My husband, Rob, and I didn’t have plans for the evening. All that particular Thursday had going for it was what all Thursdays have going for them — they’re the day before Friday. Friday eve. Or, as I like to say, Little Friday.
And yet, I was looking forward to Thursday, even did a little happy dance in the kitchen when I awakened and it was, finally, Thursday.
“Oh yay! It’s here! It’s Thursday!” I sang, sipping my coffee.
I sang and sipped my way to my desk, looked down, and saw the number two on the little phone icon on my cell.
Two missed calls? But it didn’t even ri —
Oh dammit.
I had it set to “Silence Unknown Numbers.” Why? Because I’d just figured out how to do that and was trying it out.
Might have been nice if I turned it off.
In any case, there were two missed messages to go with the two missed calls from the same unknown number. Someone was really trying to reach me, but who?
Could it be Publisher’s Clearing House?
Oh it was a house alright. The Big House.
“This is a free, one-minute call from (my son’s voice stating his name), an inmate at the Rappahannock Regional Jail. If you accept the charges, please press…”
What the hell? I play the second message as I’m running to Rob’s office.
“This is a free, one-minute call from (my son’s voice stating his name), an inmate at the Rappahannock Regional Jail. If you accept the charges, please press…”
WTF? This is a joke, right?
It’s probably my wailing that prevents Rob from hearing the message, as he’s only heard the words “please press…” so I have to play it again. Which I do as I collapse onto the floor by his chair and…
