I still have my voice mail number in New York. I keep it for a few reasons. One is that it is my contact number for my headshots in New York, and I just KNOW Miramax is going to be a-callin' one of these days. Another is that I love voice mail because it is completely anonymous. I can give it out to anyone and not be afraid of finding a stalker at my door the next morning. The other reason I keep the number is for days like today, where I check it to find only the sound of wind and cabs blowing, with no one speaking. A wrong number, I'm sure, but for a moment I don't feel so far away. The world feels close, and intimate. Not too long ago, I got these messages (in thick New York Jew accent):

"Rebecca, this is Mirah Worthenson on the 34th floor, honey. I need for you to cover my desk at lunch next week. I gotta go to the dentist. Call my extension, sweety."
And, a few days later...
"Rebecca, this is Mirah Worthenson on the 34th floor again, honey. I don't know why you haven't called me back. It's really important. I need you to cover my desk. Remember what I did for you. I gotta go to the dentist, my tooth is killing me. Maybe you forgot my extension. It's 0304. Call me ASAP, that's A.S.A.P., sweety."
And finally, in a dejected voice...
"Rebecca, I don't know why you don't call me. It's Mirah Worthenson. 0304."

It's just beautiful. Poor Mirah. I hope she figured it out. The amazing thing is that I clearly state that I am Adriana on my outgoing message, and that I am in California. She must not have heard it. Maybe the sound of wind and cabs was filling her ears, too.

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Tuesday, March 19, 2002 : 12:29 PM     0 Comments  




 

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