The Phone Call

The Phone Call
By John Paul Dodds

I looked down at the phone in my hand.  It looked expensive.  Top-of-the-range expensive.  I mean it wasn't an I-phone or the new Samsung or anything.  In fact I couldn't see a brand name on it anywhere.  Just an etching of a flame carved into the back.  But it felt... solid.  Quality.  

Jeez.  It almost had to be stolen, didn't it.  Oh well.  That was ten quid down the drain.  That was probably why the guy was so desperate to get rid of it.  

Damn.  I'm an idiot.  
It's probably blocked already.
And if it isn't, I'm betting it soon will be.

I pressed my finger against the screen in the vain hope it would work.  The screen flashed into life.  For just a fraction of a second I saw the message appear 'Fingerprint Accepted', and then it flicked to the home screen.

What the heck.
Maybe it was hacked.  Yeah, that had to be it.  The phone was hacked.  The fingerprint lock would probably accept any fingerprint.  I flicked through to the contacts page.  It was empty.  Of course it was.  If they hacked the fingerprint lock then they weren't going to leave the contacts list intact.

Just for the Hell of it, I flicked through to the call log.  I was sure that would be empty too.  It wasn't.  There was one entry.  'Mom'.
Oh great.  It wasn't bad enough I just bought a stolen phone.  It had been grabbed from some kid.  Now I really felt like shit.  I stared at the phone.  Goddammit!

Call it a spur of the moment thing but I hit redial.  Maybe I could say I found the phone.  Hell, it looked expensive.  There might even be a reward.  It might cover the ten quid I just wasted.  It didn't really matter though.  There was no way I was hanging onto a phone that had been snatched from some kid.

“Honey, Is that you?”.
I nearly dropped the phone.

“David, honey.  Are you there?”.

I knew that voice.
There are some voices you never forget.  That you would never fail to recognise in a million years.

I stared at the phone in horror.  The blood drained from my face.  Then I threw it away from me.  As hard as I could.  It bounced off the wall and clattered to the pavement.

“David?  Can you hear me?  Is this thing on?”.
Her voice sounded tinny from the pavement, but I sorta choked on a strangled laugh.  She never was very good with technology.

It wasn't just some kid's mom.  It was my mom.

My mom.  
Who died in a car accident three years ago.