October 13, 2011
The continuing saga…
You’ll be thrilled to learn that I have a secret admirer. Well, not exactly secret. You see, my admirer is our local hospital. And she loves to call me at least once a month.
The call comes in as only initials, something special and sexy that I don't recognize. I answer, with ticklish trepidation, and am told by a robotic, yet feminine voice—which butchers my name in such an adorable way—to call back the next day between 8 and 5. Oh, but I know that trick. See, that’s my admirer’s way of making me admit that *I* want her. I have to call her back.
We’re co-dependent, the hospital and I.
In the morning, I take a deep breath, a shot of tequila, a Valium, some cocaine, and I call. I’m put on hold, of course. But you know, I like hold. Hold is like purgatory. We’re all friends in hold.
When the operator finally takes my call, I’m relieved. This is a woman I’ve come to know. Laura. We are intimate, the two of us. We speak each other's unspoken language, fluently. Laura giggles when I tell her that the autodialer dialed me. Laura likes to laugh. We go through my list of account numbers and determine there is no logical reason I should have received the call.
But what’s logic in the face of a lust like ours?
"Oh," says Laura, with a squeal as if she's just been pinched on what I imagine is her perky derriere. "Except this. You see, we received your four payments on October 2nd." She makes a tsk tsk noise. I want to fuck her six ways to Sunday. I have to fan myself with my stack of hospital statements to stave off a swoon.
"The payments weren’t due until October 5th," I tell her in a husky whisper.
"Yes, that’s right, but see, it can take nine days for our computer to process your payments fully."
2 + 9 = 11. That is why the autodialer called me on the 11th. Because I was fucking early.
"So should I ignore the call next time?" I ask. Thinking no, I won’t do it. I won’t not call when you tell me to call. Laura agrees this would be a foolish tactic.
"Oh, no, we’ll send you to collections if you miss a call," she says, that bubbly tone warming me deep inside.
Collections. It’s like hold. But longer.
"You did that before," I remind her as I play with myself. "And the collection agency said you didn’t have a reason to do so." This talk of bills takes me closer to the cusp by the second.
"Yes, but we took you back," she reminds me just as quickly.
That’s why I love my secret admirer so much. She always takes me back.