busy,
that’s all.” “Doing what, taking drugs with his
creepy friends?” “Stop it, Ralph,” mom said angrily.
I felt her anger penetrate my empty apartment through the machine.
I could not hear the rest of her reply. They must have moved to
another room.
BEEEEP. NO MORE MESSAGES, the computerized female voice said. I listened
to all three messages a few more times and wrote them down word for
word. Then I hit erase, MESSAGES ERASED the computer-woman declared.
I escaped into the shower.
As the water was washing over my face and my body, I pulled
my head back and spit out some of the water that got into my
mouth. I held my hands clasped at the back of my neck. I looked
down at the drain, and only then, I fully realized what had
happened. That weird combination of record, stop, and play
that I pressed on the machine must’ve messed it up. It
was now playing the voices of the message leavers a minute
or two after they finished recording. They didn’t all
forget to hang up. I heard Donna trash me, Craig call me a
loser, my father call me a drug addict… this was all
because my answering machine was blessed, or cursed. I didn’t
know which. But what ever it was, I would’ve never known
any of their true voices if it wasn’t for that accidental
combination of record, stop, and play. I ran out of the shower
and put my gym clothes back on. I walked down three flights
of stairs, and then one block south to the nearest payphone.
I called myself. I left a message “Hi, this is me. This
is a test. This is a test.” I whistled for a few seconds
after hanging up, and stuck around the payphone for a few more
seconds in silence. Then I ran back home. I hit play. I heard
my message “Hi this is me. This is a Test. This is a
Test.” BEEP. I stared at my answering machine for a few
seconds, and then hit the magic combo: record, stop, play.
I heard my message again from the start. CLICK. Then I heard
my whistling, voices of cars, a long angry honk, and a taxi
driver yelling
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