Sunday morning at 3:34am, while Santa was still under the influence, sitting in bed playing Scrabble on her gizmo with a stranger, the gizmo rang. Initally I thought perhaps Santa was calling but the number was from a 707 area code: Santa Rosa, CA. I was aware that there were SantaCons happening in other cities across America but decided to let the call go to voicemail. Then I could listen to the anonymous Santa and call back if I so desired.
I often receive “ass calls” or “purse calls,” since unless people have an Aaron in their contacts, I’m usually at the top of the list. An ass call is when the words aren’t fully discernible, you only hear the scritch-scritch of movement muffling the message’s voices. This call was definitely not an ass call. It was my ex, drunk off his ass, slurring to some girl at what sounded like a party. No one was directly speaking into the phone but I could understand every word. Well, almost every word, given how shitfaced he was.
What. The. Fuck. I was hesitant to post about this here. I haven’t yet written up a re-cap of my DPW work season because, frankly, although it was a struggle at some points, I didn’t want to feed his ego by expending any more energy on him or giving him additional column inches. I may record it anyway, since clean-up meant spending all day, every day in his presence, which made for some interesting dynamics. For now, I’m reluctantly addressing this phone call.
I lost my phone on Halloween so unless I’ve re-entered a number, I have no idea who’s calling me. However, I could tell this wasn’t from him because he has a New Mexico area code. (Had? I suppose he could’ve gotten a new phone.) But when I listened to the message I could most definitely recognize his voice. So I have to ask: why the hell would he be calling me? I won’t go into my theories, since I’m saving them for my “Sp****ck Redux,” as “E” has entitled it…even if she’s the only one I let read it. Any ideas? It’s been liberating putting distance — physical and chronological, as well as emotional — between us and finally being able to forget and get over. I won’t let this affect me or be a set-back. But I do find it a bit disturbing…