Wrong Number

Henry stared ahead, eyes unfocused, and wondered whether he should accept defeat or press on. How many hours had passed already? The sun was nearly set now, and the phone book atop the table took on the golden hue of late afternoon. Dozens of sheets of scrap paper were crumpled up nearby, each full of wrong phone numbers…all he had to show for nearly two days of work.

The cat clock on the wall counted the seconds as they went by, the sound no help to Henry’s mood. You’re supposed to be my “lucky pen”, he thought, frustrated beyond measure. He slammed the pen down hard on the wooden surface of the table and slumped forward. The subsequent thud! made the cat, who had been asleep peacefully on the nearby counter, scamper off - clearly annoyed by her human’s lack of respect for her sleep schedule.

Good…That makes two of us grumpy and sleepy then, he thought as he absently thumbed through random sheets of the phone book. He’d already looked at hundreds of pages between yesterday and today, and yet so far he’d been unsuccessful. Her number’s gotta be here somewhere…

Her. Beth. The most gorgeous, funny, sharp tongued, clever woman Henry ever had the pleasure to meet. The day they spent together was, no doubt, one of the best Henry could remember. He couldn’t recall a date he’d been on that had gone half as well.

And we met by pure chance! Henry wondered at the thought. No…not just chance. Fate. Had to be…

He thought about the moment he’d spotted her. She stood out, not only because she was lovely and tall and wore a pretty blue dress the same color as her eyes; but also because she had a dreamy, thoughtful look on her face. Henry couldn’t deny the draw he felt towards her, even after only a glance.

Even now, the moment felt unreal, as though he had only dreamed of her. But no; somehow, by luck or chance (or fate), the very awkward, two-left-footed Henry got the wonderful Beth to not only talk, but to dance together.

“Ughhhh….” Henry groaned out loud, head on top of the phone book. “Henry, you old fool…”

How could he have messed up so badly? Henry thought back to Beth’s words from last Saturday, memory clear as a bell:

“You’re sure you don’t want to jot my number down?” she’d asked, eyes aglow and breath short after the fast paced dance they’d just completed. “Surely there’s a pen and a scrap of paper around here somewhere…”

Henry had just laughed. “Not necessary. Guess who has the memory of an elephant?” He beamed at her, self-assured. “Try me.”

Beth rolled her eyes, but struggled to conceal her amusement. Henry’s heart fluttered as he met her eyes.

“Okay then, Smarty Pants. Here’s the number…”

Henry remembered every aspect of that spontaneous date. He could recall perfectly how every movement made Beth’s gorgeous aqua dress sparkle, and how the garment made the blue of her eyes pop all the more. He could hear the melody that was her laugh, remembered each and every corny joke she’d told. He could smell the sweet, floral perfume that perfectly matched her whole persona.

But for every crystal clear memory, one element eluded Henry…the last part of Beth’s phone number.

Area code? Easy. Next three numbers? He was pretty sure he knew those, too. But no matter what Henry attempted to jog the memory, the last four numbers were a complete blank…

How on earth could we have forgotten to exchange our last names, too?! Henry lamented. And why can’t there be some faster way to look somebody up other than the blasted phone book…

Henry desperately hoped that, somehow, the numbers would suddenly reveal themselves. Fate had led Beth and Henry’s paths to cross once; surely the woman of Henry’s dreams wouldn’t fade away just as fast as she’d appeared? Perhaps by some pure dumb luck he’d come across the correct entry as he tore through the phone book…But so far, he’d not even found the smallest of leads. He’d made no more progress today than he had yesterday, and each hour that passed seemed to sap any hope he’d clung to.

Was he crazy? Was fate at play, or was Henry just charmed by a pretty woman he’d met at a dance?

Beth was more than just pretty, though. She was educated; cared about people; loved dogs; wanted to see the world…how on earth she wasn’t already taken, Henry would never know…

What he was sure of, though, was that they were too good a match not to meet at least once more. But there were thousands of names and numbers to go through…how would Henry ever locate the one he needed? And how long would Beth stand by for Henry’s call before she moved on to someone else?

Ugh, Henry thought, angry that he’d felt the need to show off to Beth, rather than be smart and just pen the number on a scrap of paper as she’d suggested. Was the move worth the stress he was under now? Would Beth really have cared, regardless? Probably not. Assuredly not.

Henry looked at the paper on the table to check the number he’d last attempted. He went through at least two dozen more (wrong) numbers over the next hour; hope depleted as each attempt was made.

The sun was completely down now, the room had grown dark and he struggled to read the notes he’d taken. The resurgence of energy he’d felt an hour ago had faded. Was there any real reason to keep the endeavor up? Should he just stop and move on?

No. Henry knew the effort may be wasted, but he had to try. He wouldn’t lose out on another chance to see Beth, not when there was even the smallest of prospects that he could locate her. He’d call every number the book had to offer, should the need come. He would ask Beth out on a second date, and hope she hadn’t already moved on.

Several attempts later, fate agreed Henry had endured enough. On the other end of the call, Henry heard Beth’s soft “Hello?”

Henry beamed. At last, he’d found her.