Ooo, I haven’t thought about this in years.
Back in '86 or '87, when I was finishing high school, I came home one evening to hear the upstairs phone – a line dedicated to me and my brother for our nascent pre-Internet computer use – ringing. I rush up the stairs to catch it before the caller hangs up.
It was a long time ago, so the details are hazy, but what I recall is that the woman on the other end, whom I didn’t know, seemed sort of anxious and worried. The upshot: “You don’t know me, but I really, really need to talk to somebody right now. Do you have a few minutes?” Me: “Uh, sure.”
She starts to tell me her life story. Within ten minutes, I realize that she’s completely out of her gourd, so I grab a pen and paper to take notes. As a cynical 17-year-old, I can’t be bothered to sympathize with the poor woman; I wanted to write down her delusions for personal amusement.
I’m better now, thanks.
Anyway, I’ve long since lost those notes, so I have to go on memory. What I recall goes like this: She’s worried about being “disappeared.” Her husband does high-security work for the military; he is (she says) a mechanic for a secret helicopter base upstate. She hasn’t heard from him in a couple of days, and she’s worried that he did something wrong, and that They will be coming for her next. There was also something in there about the AIDS virus (remember the paranoia in '87?) being inserted into government surplus cheese (!) to cull the lower classes.
Finally, towards the end, I was getting bored, so I started steering the conversation intead of just listening. In particular, I asked, So, why are you telling me all of this? Her response: “Like I said, I’m worried that They will make me Disappear, so I wanted somebody to know about it in case I do.” Me: I have no idea who you are. Her: (silence) Me: “If I don’t know your name, how am I supposed to know if you disappear?” Her: Long silence. Finally, “Okay,” and she gives me her name.
Then I hear the rustling of her putting the phone down and covering the mouthpiece, and she yells: “Would you turn that down? I’m on the phone.”
And in the background, I hear at least two children watching cartoons.
I don’t know why the woman’s obvious insanity didn’t affect me at the outset, but somehow the idea that this clearly crazy individual is solely responsible for the well-being of two children was thoroughly unnerving. I stammered something about keeping my eye out for anything unusual, for which she thanked me profusely, and I got off the phone.
I looked in the phone book and confirmed that somebody with the name she gave me existed, but that doesn’t really mean anything. I told a few people the story and asked for advice (including from my parents); they all said, Eh, she’s nuts, forget about it. I considered contacting the police to see about her kids, but didn’t. Of course, being an Evil Teenager, I also considered writing her a letter on fake letterhead, using a name like Committee for Industry and Agriculture (CIA, get it?), but I didn’t do that either.
Thanks for reminding me. I wonder what happened to her.
