Waiting for the Phone to Ring

By Mimi Knight

The more things change the more they stay the same. Whoever said knew what he was talking about. It's scary how true that is in my life. Case in point.

Its 1977, my junior year of high school. It's just after school and I'm in my usual position- flopped across my bed on my belly listening to Led Zeppelin and waiting for the phone to ring. It rings. I glance at the clock. 4:30. Football practice just ended. It's him! He just got home, didn't take the time to change his clothes or grab a snack. He couldn't wait to call me.

“Hello....What?”

It's some woman from church looking for Mama.

 “No, she's not here”.

Something about a meeting of the alter society.

“7 o'clock? Wednesday night? Yes, ma'am. Yes, ma'am”.

Gotta' get off the phone. He might be trying to call.

Flash forward to 2005. I'm thirty-something and just got back from dropping the kids off at school. The phone rings. My eyes shoot over to the clock. It's 8:00 a.m.. That makes it 9:00 in New York. This could be an editor. She just got to her office and didn't even stop to pour herself a cup of coffee. My essay was so original, so whimsical that she had to call me right away.

 “Hello?”

It's my sister. Something about a party at her house on Saturday.

“Yeah, I can bring a dessert. Sure, you can use my espresso machine.”

 Gotta, get off the phone. An editor might be trying to call.

1977 again. Why isn't he calling? He came all the way over to talk to me, after the pep rally. I was wearing that great sweater. I was having a monumentally good hair day. We talked and laughed. Then, he asked for my number. Why'd he ask for it if he wasn't going to call? Only three days till the party. If he doesn't call by Wednesday, I'll have to say “No” so I won't look desperate. Maybe he already asked somebody. But who? I'll bet it's that Erin. He's already asked Erin. I just know it.

The present again. I go to my desk and check the list posted on the side of my computer. I have twenty-five queries and finished manuscripts floating around out there. Surely one of them has landed on an editor's desk. But is it in the pile she's considering or the does-not-meet-our-editorial-needs-at-this-time. Hope-you-have-luck placing-it-elsewhere pile? What about the Halloween piece? It's funny. David laughed out loud, when he read it. Or the “Making Clean-up Time Fun” proposal? Now, that was well researched and thorough. I got a little carried away with my descriptions in the camping piece though and the opening was a bit long on the potty training one. Hell, nobody's going to buy any of this junk.

1977. Its after dinner. My social studies report is almost done. The phone hasn't rung in an hour. I have a thought, run to the phone, pick it up, and listen. Dial tone. Its working. There are still a few more hours for him to call, tonight.

2005. Its 5 o'clock. I'm late getting dinner started. The phone hasn't rung in an hour. I have a thought, run to the phone, pick it up and listen. Dial tone. It's working. A few more minutes for an editor to call tonight.

1977. The phone rings. I freeze. Got to let it ring three times or he'll think I was waiting for him to call.

“Hello?”

It's him! I can't breathe. My mouth's dry and my heart's pounding so hard I can't hear what he's saying. But my voice is calm, relaxed. Yeah, guys call me all day long , it says, This is no big deal .

“Saturday night? The party? Hold on and let me check.”

 I hold the phone in my lap and count to ten.

Then, “Sure, I'd love to. Great! See you then”.

Yes! Yes! Oh, yes! The big party with Patrick! I knew he was crazy about me all along. I knew he'd call.

2005. The phone rings. It's 5:30. I freeze. A little late, but it could still be New York. I stumble over a pile of Legos, lunge for the phone, and grab it before it can stop ringing. New York accent. Don't recognize the voice. It's an editor! My heart is pounding and my mouth is dry. I can't hear her because the kids are so noisy. David comes in from work and they get louder. What's she saying? She loved the essay. Can I trim off a couple hundred words? I take a deep breath and sound calm and professional. Sure editors call me, all day long .

“Trim some words? No problem. I'll throw it on a disk and get it right to you. Look forward to working with you. Thanks. Good-bye.”

Yes! Yes! Oh, yes! I dash to my computer to start the changes. I knew she'd love it. It's a great piece- funny and discerning. I'm a good writer. I knew she'd call.

Yep, that was one smart cat who said, “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” At least for me, truer words were never spoken.

Mimi Knight is a freelance writer. Her essays and article have appeared in Parents Magazin e, Working Mother, American Baby, Christian Parenting Today, Campus Life, Sesame Street Parents , Bottom Line Personal , At-Home Mother and Mothers at Home as well as in anthologies like Three-Ring Circus; How Real Couples Balance Marriage, Work and Family, A Cup of Comfort Devotional, Chicken Soup for Every Mom's Soul, and Lists to Live By .