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Another Human Voice

Bill Tope

She sat alone in the house, in an old, much-used
Recliner, next to the phone, as if waiting for it to ring.
Sometimes she wanted so badly just to hear
Another human voice that she called the Time and
Temperature number to satisfy her longing. She
Made a mental note to order more cat food; it
Was always something

She was old—93 come September 12th—but she
Acknowledged that she still had needs. She
Liked television but couldn’t afford cable, and
Her ancient Magnavox wouldn’t work without
A special box, which was likewise out of her
Price range. So the old TV sat like a statue in
The dim corner of her living room, gathering
Dust. She stared at the dark screen for a
Moment, as if she could will it to light up with
Colors and sounds and entertainment.

Reading was out of the question too; her eyes
Had grown weaker through the years, until she
Could no longer make out the fine print in the
Newspaper, even with glasses. She once used
Her radio, but ever since Rush Limbaugh had
Died, she had no further use for it. She had
Been an unapologetic Ditto Head. When he
Passed she felt like she’d lost another child.

Her family had long since passed her by. Her
Husband had died more than thirty years ago,
At 65, seeming just minutes following his
Long-awaited retirement. Her oldest son she’d
Lost to the war in Vietnam, what, more than
Fifty years ago. And her precious daughter had
Succombed to Covid just last year. None of her
Children had had children of their own.

The son she lost to the war had been just 19, so
Young and with no real chance to start a family.
And her daughter she suspected had been gay,
Not that that would have mattered to her mother.
They had never discussed it. They had respected
Each other’s privacy. She sorely missed her
Girl. She hadn’t even gotten to a hold a funeral, so
She never really had a chance to say goodbye.
A single tear leaked out of her eye.

And her younger son, the baby and the only
Other surviving member of her family, hadn’t
Made an appearance in more than 35 years,
Not even for the passing of his father and sister.
She didn’t know what to think: was he dead or alive?
She shook her head sadly. Maybe if she had a
Computer—and knew how to operate it—she could
Search for him. But, to what end? He knew where
She lived. Maybe it was better that she didn’t
Know. So, alone, she made do. She had
Little choice. He’d probably miss her funeral, too,
She thought bleakly.

She had once attended her church, but could
No longer drive to the services. Her old Chevy
Stood forlorn in her driveway, every usable
Part stripped clean by vandals. The police had
Seemed little interested in her account of the
Theft; they insisted they had bigger fish to fry,
And that she’d better get a current sticker.

She had tried to get a ride to church, but
Nobody seemed to have the time or the
Inclination to help an old woman. Always some
Excuse or an eye roll. Most of the other
Parishoners were much younger
Than she. No one from the church ever paid
Her a visit. They gleefully accepted her tithes,
Even provided convenient, stamped envelopes.
But then that was between them and God. Let
Him sort it out. The world belongs to the
Young, people said. It was as if the past
Never happened.

There was a small market just down the street
From her home, but her arthritic limbs wouldn’t
Abide her trekking that far. Her walker was
Always by her side, but it wasn’t made for distance.
She didn’t know any of her neighbors anymore;
Everyone who’d lived in the neighborhood when
She moved in had long since died. And the people
Who replaced them simply weren’t friendly. They
Paid her no mind. Not her idea of a neighbor
At all.

She paid the man who mowed her lawn $10 twice
A week to fetch her groceries from the local Kroger,
So at least she wouldn’t starve. She saved much
Of her money to pay for taxicabs to doctors’ offices
And to pay for the plethora of medicines she took.
Without a local transit system, she was pretty much
Imprisoned in her own home.

Why doesn’t that phone ring? she wondered again,
Growing a little desperate. Just some
Companionship, a gentle touch from another human
Hand, a simple gesture of affection, was all
She so sorely needed! Finally she made up her
Mind: there was one person she could talk to, after
All.

And he was always there, ready to take her
Call, always willing to discuss the issues of
The day with her. And he would talk for as long
As his caller wished. But, she hated so to disturb
Him, so soon after the last time. But, she told
Herself, perhaps he won’t mind. Her gnarled
Fingers reached for the receiver. It seemed to
Weigh ten pounds.

With a trembling hand she spun the dial on her old
Black rotary phone; it seemed to take forever. At
Last the connection went through. Settling back in
Her chair, she held the phone close and listened
Intently. A familiar, friendly voice came on:

“Today is Friday, September 12th; it is two a.m.
Our temperature is 51 degrees Fahrenheit. The
Weather today will be cloudy...” As she listened,
Her foot bumped up against an open can of cat food,
Jarring loose a spoon. The old woman hadn’t
Owned a cat for many years.

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