"A Voice On The Phone"

Despite doing tech support for the past seven miserable years, I never thought a single call would change my life forever. I normally don't pay attention to a customer's rambling during a call, but I couldn't ignore this one. It's because of the person calling that made me focus more on them than the actual call. That person was my estranged father, who I haven't spoken to in fifteen years.

What I think is a normal Friday night turns into a bad one as I find myself caught in a thunderstorm on my way to the office. I rush into work, hang my coat by the front doors, and sit down at my desk. I begin logging in as I dry my face off with a towel I keep by my desk. I sighed as I see the call queue spiking out of control. I let out one last curse as I put on my headset, and clock in. I was hoping for an easy night for the past week has been nothing but nonstop calls, but it seems everyone is going online tonight. In other words, it's going to be another crappy night at work.

Around eight that evening, I get the call that changes my life. I answer it with the generic greeting, "Thank you for calling SunCom Technical Support. This is Aaron speaking. How can I assist you?"

"Yes, I can't access my internet, and I really need it right now," says the guy on the other end in a panicked tone.

"I apologize you can't connect, sir, but I will be happy to help you," I reply in a monotonic voice.  After seven years, I've lost all empathy for the customers since the majority of the time it's their fault. "What's the account number?"

"8705551425," he replies, almost sounding like he's in tears.

"Thank you, sir," I state as I begin pulling up the account. When I see his name and the address, my entire body becomes filled with rage. It takes all my will not to end the call. I continue on with the call as professionally as I cam muster. "Name and address, sir?

"Johnathan Hawkins, 1542 E 42nd ST, Columbia MO 65207," he replies.

“Thank you, sir," I say as I have my hand shaking over the disconnect button. Every part of my being doesn't want to deal with this poor excuse of a human being, but I can't let personal feelings stop me from doing my job. "What's a good contact number?" He says the account number, and I continue,” What’s the issue you having this evening?"

"I can't connect to the internet, and I need it to find my son," he explains while crying. "I need to find a way to contact him to tell him I'm dying."

I almost blurt out that this is his son, and I don't care for how he treated me growing up, but I continue on, “The lights on the modem. Which ones are blinking and which ones are solid?"

As he tells me the light status, I find myself conflicted. I'm talking to the man who used to beat me senseless every night for 10 years in a drunken rage, but I'm force to help him so he can try to find me. The fact he's in tears makes me put aside my anger, and try to help him. If he's crying while talking to a complete stranger, it makes me wonder what he wants to tell me.

As I troubleshoot his issue, I keep fighting how to handle this. I got his information, so I could save him the time of trying to locate me. However, I don't want to bring back all those oppressed memories back out. I've spent years in therapy because of him, and I don't want to do it again if it turns out to be one of his sick jokes. If it is, I will

probably end up killing myself like I almost done in the past.

As I get him back online, he finally states, "You sound like my son."

"Just a coincidence," I retort.

"Well, whoever you are, I can't tell you how helpful you've been," he says in the sincerest tone I ever heard from his mouth. "I can't thank you enough. Now, to find my son so I can tell him about the battle with cancer I'm losing. I don't want to die alone."

"Well, good luck, sir, and I hope you find him," I say fighting back the tears. Even though he's been a total bastard to me all these years, I can't bare anyone dying alone, especially my father. I know he left Mom and me ages ago, I feel it's best we settle our differences while we still can.

"Thank you," he says. "Have a good night."

"You too, sir, and thank you for calling SunCom," I say as the call ends, quickly recording his number and address on a small notepad. I tear the sheet off, and shove it into my pocket.

That night, after work, I find myself sitting on my couch holding an unopened bottle of whiskey as the tears keep coming out. No matter how angry I was at him, the more I want to rush out there, and be at his side. I will never let go of the past if I don't make an attempt to heal the old emotional wounds.

I get off the couch, and pour the entire bottle of whiskey down the drain. Drinking tonight will lead to me doing something stupid, so it's best to get rid of it. With that done, I hop onto my computer, and book the earliest flight I can. I'm glad I did save most of the inheritance I got from Mom. If not, I would be sacrificing much more than my job to take this trip.

With flight booked, I quickly head into my bedroom, pack up a week's worth of clothes and my computer. I glance at the clock, and realize I only got two hours to kill before I have to leave for the airport. I finish packing, and make two last checks to make sure I didn't leave anything behind. Satisfied I got everything, I call the cab company, and make arrangements to have a cab take me to the airport. Once the call is done, I grab my bags, and head out, not certain if I'll ever return here.

As I get into the cab about twenty minutes later, I debate whether or not to call him as I'm driven to the airport. I know he can't find my online for I use the alias of Ron Schmidt, so unless I make the first call, he can't reach me at all. Considering how he sounded on the call, I think it's best to show up at his door. It's been 15 years since we've last talked, so I think the surprise visit while mean the world to him despite everything we've been through.

An hour later, the plane leaves the tarmac, taking me towards a place I vowed I would never step foot into again all those years ago. As the plane climbs higher, I quit focusing on what happened, and focus on the pain and suffering Dad is going through. I find myself crying as I think that no man should leave this world alone, and no father should leave this world without his son at his side. If I go, I rather have family at my side then die alone. Loneliness is the cruelest thing you could experience when you pass on. I'll be there for my Dad to know that he's my father, and nothing can change the fact deep inside I still love him.