Please, Wendy

On Christmas at around 9:00pm, Bill answered two wrong numbers. They were both the same woman, calling for someone named Wendy*. She sounded drunk. Bill was very kind to her. Later in the evening, when we were in another room where we couldn’t hear the phone, she called again. I didn’t pick up the message until a few days later.

What resulted is a mix of poignant and pathetic. The woman is remarkably articulate for being so obviously inebriated (I didn’t edit, except to add punctuation). I’m not sure what to think about it, but I know I want to keep it:

Uh, hello, Wendy I’m trying to reach you, I need to reach you, I know you’re home. I know you go to work tomorrow. please answer your phone, honey. I’m begging you.

You’re gonna get so much stuff, and that’s all you care about from me, so please, answer the phone. Please, Wendy. I’ll never ask you again for anything. And you’re getting everything of mine. I mean everything. I made out my living will; you’re getting everything. Please, Wendy, please, please, I’m begging you to call me back.

You always say you can call anytime, you can come over any time, but you know that’s a lie. Please, honey, I’m begging you. Please, Wendy. I don’t know how much longer I can stay awake. Please. Please. You’re getting everything you’ve always wanted. You have been blessed with that and you are gonna be blessed again. Please Wendy, please.

I am your mom. I had a choice not to keep you or keep you and I kept you, even though it meant losing my life, I kept you. But I didn’t, we both lived through it. I’ve loved you all my life, and I’ve seen you, I don’t know what life was like before you. You’re so cruel to me! I need you to call me. You avoid me, you lie to me. You say come over any time but you don’t mean it cause you don’t even have my coat, you lost it. My 23-dollar moisturizer is gone, everything, my book–my library book’s gone, my stationery’s gone, everything is gone.

I don’t have anything any more. I don’t have photos of you any more Wendy. I’m so proud of you and I don’t have photos of you. I love you so much, why are you doing this to me, Wendy, why? If you’d stop doing it I wouldn’t be sad all the time, don’t you understand that? All you gotta do is call these doctors. I’ll sign releases for you. Or all you gotta do is call Tony, he talked directly with them.

*Her name has been changed.

January 3, 2003 Addendum:

For the past two nights, a deep voiced woman (not Mom) has called asking for Wendie. Last night she was quite rude, accusing Bill of lying to her, and asking him if he was someone else–presumably Wendie’s boyfriend. He was not impressed, and told her not to call again.

1 Responses to Please, Wendy

  1. "Wendy" says:

    Thanks for not posting my real name. Could you keep taking my calls for me please? You’re doing a great job.

    Happy New Year,

    “Wendy”