The Phone Call

The phone rang, and I hurried across the room to grab it. As I picked up the receiver, I put on my best speaking voice. My parents had trained me well.

“Hello,” I chimed.

A deep male voice responded, “Is Mary there?”

“I’m sorry. There is no Mary here. You must have the wrong number.” My politeness was automatic but sincere. My mom made sure of that.

“That’s a shame. You sound cute, though. What’s your name?”

“Nancy.”‘

“Hi, Nancy. I’m Johny. How old are you?”

“Twelve, almost thirteen.”

“Wow. What a great age! Do you have a boyfriend?” I could hear the flirty smile in his words.

“No. I did for awhile, but we broke up a few weeks ago.”

“Nancy, are you sure you are only 13? You sound so much more mature than that.” His voice was smooth and confident, and the compliment brought heat to my cheeks.

“Mom says I am mature for my age. How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven. Do you like older guys?”

“Sometimes,” I replied with a slight giggle.

After a long pause, he continued. “Do you like sex, Nancy?”

“I…”, I stammered. “I…I don’t know. I’ve never done that.”

“You would like it. Do you want to try it?”

“I…”

I heard the screen door slam and looked up. My dad was standing in the doorframe. “Who’s on the phone?” he asked.

“Johny,” I replied instantly, as if this person was an old friend.

I hear the voice on the line ask, “Who is that?”

“Just my dad, ” I answered.

There was a click in my ear and then the nagging sound of a dial tone.

#metoo

©2018 Nancy Lehmann

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