Sorry, Wrong Number

“Why did you hang up on me?” says a woman caller. Her voice sounds familiar. And angry.

     “I didn’t hang up on you,” I say. It’s an automatic denial. A reflex.

     “Don’t treat me like I’m dumb! I’m not that dumb!” she says and I suddenly realize she sounds like my great-grandmother Judith, only meaner.

     The thing is, Granny Judy died twenty-two years ago. So it’s probably not her.

     “I’m sorry. I think you have the wrong number,” I say, which is true.

     “I told you not to treat me like I’m dumb!”

     “Sorry,” I say and hang up on her, sort of again.

     I think, Boy, the real guy’s going to get an earful now!