“What, who is it?” I said.
The voice on the other end of the line was husky and smoky sounding.
“It’s big, it’s swollen, and it hurts.”
What was this, a telephone sex call that had reached a wrong number?
“Won’t be coming,” the voice said.
I was about ready to hang up, really I was, when I heard the name Sally. I have an employee named Sally I thought.
“Is that you Sally?” I said.
It was past ten, and she hadn’t arrived for work yet.
“It’s Sally,” she squeaked, the huskiness in her voice replaced by a breathless scratchy quality.
I know that voice. Emma’s kid Joey sounded like that when he had his tonsils out.
“Sally” I said, ” Did you have your tonsils out?”
I pictured her sucking on a Popsicle.
“I won’t be coming into work today,” she said.
She was whispering now; her voice was barely audible.
Maybe it was just a bad cold, I thought, it surely sounded like a bad cold, or if not a cold some serious lung disease. It was probably just a cold.
“I won’t be coming in,” she said. “I hurt my foot”
“You hurt your foot?” I said.
Her voice seemed to be improving.
“You don’t have a cold or the flu or some other respiratory ailment?” I said.
“No,” she said with just the tiniest bit of gruffness left in her voice.
“I sprained my ankle; I can hardly walk.”
“Have you seen a doctor,” I said.
“No, but my boyfriend was an army medic and he’s pretty sure it’s only a sprain. I’m sure I’ll be in tomorrow,” she said.
Sally was at work the next day, her voice back to normal and she only limped when she knew I was watching.
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Tags: doctor, sick, Sick Days, telephone sex
How’s her blood?
Good question, what she really needed was an intelligence test, or perhaps just a remedial lying 101 class.
Ha ha! Remedial Lying 101 — too great. Definitely sounds like a night school dealio.