455. Terrifying-turned-weird morning.

My cell phone woke me up at 5:17 this morning. Like any normal person, I wondered who it could be and what the emergency was.

I'd missed the call by the time I made it to the kitchen--where I keep it during its charge--in a sleepy stupor. I checked the missed-calls and saw the caller was "restricted."

Just as I was running through my mental list of "restricted" contacts, the phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Is this Janelle?" It was not a voice I recognized. He sounded angry and big.

He got my name from the voice mail greeting, my instincts told me.

"I can see you through your window."

Terrified, I look over my shoulder at my kitchen window. The pine tree outside looked back at me. I'm on the top floor of a 4-story building, and pine trees aren't known for being the best climbing trees or for making phone calls so early in the morning, so I was skeptical.

"O.K?" I replied. I decided that I'd better keep him on the phone to find out how much he knew about me. It sounded like he was in a moving car. Does he know where I live? Were my instincts correct about him getting my name from the voice mail?

"I want to rape you."

"I'm sorry, the reception is really bad"--it wasn't--"I didn't hear you," I say in a friendly voice.

"I want pussy."

"Who is this? The reception is horrible!" I continue in a pleasant, upbeat way. There was another voice saying vulgar and violent things in the background. I imagined he and his friend were driving around. They were up to no good. I hoped no women were outside alone in their area.

"This is Jerrold."

"Oh, good. I heard that. Hi, Jerrold! How's it going?" Of course, I don't know him. But, I wanted him to think that I did. Surely, he wouldn't want anybody he knew to hear what he had confessed to me.

"Good. Can I come over?"

"Aren't we meeting later today?" I was ad-libbing. I felt relieved that he no longer sounded angry.

"Yes..."

"Great. You have a nice morning, Jerrold. See you soon."

"Uh. OK. Bye."

My mind raced. Should I call the police? What could they do?

The phone rang again.

"Hello, Jerrold. What is it that you need?" I acted like I was talking to an absent-minded friend.

It was a different voice this time. It must've been Jerrold's friend, the background voice. He sounded irate and violent.

"Don't f*cking hang up, b*tch!" He continued where Jerrold left off with the angry rape talk.

I interrupted several times with "Stupid phone! The reception is terrible. I'm sorry, Jerrold, I can't hear a word you're saying. Are you alright?"

This seemed to calm Jerrold's friend down. When I was satisfied that he was less angry, I said the thing I do when the cell phone reception is bad, but might not be for the other person: "The reception is horrible. I can't hear a word you're saying, so I'm going to hang up now. Please give me a call later."

10 minutes later the phone rang again.

"Hey Jerrold. How's it going?"

"Good. What's your name?" It was Jerrold. He sounded like a teenager picking up a girl at a mall. There was no background noise either. No moving car noise. I felt relieved imagining that he and his friend were unsuccessful in finding what they wanted while driving around.

"You forgot my name already?" I acted like the flattered girl in the mall, and was very grateful that he did not, in fact, know who I was or where I lived.

"I'm sorry, sweet heart. Hey, Rico wants to talk to you."

"I want pussy." It was a 3rd boy-man. I now had the image of 3 older teenagers hanging out doing drug-stuff in a living room upon Jerrold and his friend's return.

"You want pizza? Isn't it kind of early for that? You guys should go get some breakfast. Some bacon and eggs."

"Breakfast?" He sounded perplexed and humored. He started to sound even younger.

"Yeah, why not? What are you doing?"

"Chillin'."

"That's nice."

"Yeah."

"Well, you go get something to eat. OK?" I felt like his mom.

"OK." He sounded like a sweet son.

We hung up. I haven't heard back from them. I wish these three boys had better parents and friends.

I changed my cell phone's personal greeting to the automated one, the one that doesn't give my name. I'm not going to answer those "restricted" calls for a few weeks.

And, finally, I'm craving some bacon and eggs.