Wrong Number

Wrong Number

The phone rang at 5 AM. My wife answered, since the phone is on her side of the bed, but it woke both of us. The side of the conversation I heard consisted entirely of questions like "Who are you?" "Who are you trying to reach?" and "Why are you calling?" -- each repeated a couple of times. It seemed to go on and on. I couldn't decide, in my groggy state, if it was a wrong number or not. "Who was that?" I mumbled after my wife finally hung up. "The U.S. Army," she said. "Somebody with a heavy accent. They said they were coming to pick me up." "Oh, great," I said. "They're shipping you to Iraq. They're not even waiting for people to sign up anymore." Obviously, a wrong number. I went back to sleep, but not before wondering who it was they were really calling. I imagined some kid waiting out there in the pre-sunrise dark, nervous about embarking on a journey with no guarantee of a return ticket.
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