Member-only story
A Tough Call
When phone calls and video chats are the glue keeping us together, this one fucking tore me apart
When I am sad, I really never know what to do.
Except cry.
And make jokes.
And write until my heart explodes.
That should be enough, no?
Talking on the phone is one of my least favorite activities — right after speaking in large, unfamiliar groups, where my cheeks inevitably burst into bright-red apples. On the phone, someone is always accidentally interrupting, or punctuating every sentence with, “Can you hear me?!” or there’s a strange crackling noise no one can identify. It is rarely ever a smooth interaction.
Texting, on the other hand, is generally consistent and clear and concise, and I can do it just as fast as I talk.
I know — very millennial of me.
We are obviously in the midst of a phone-call renaissance. For many of us, using our phones to actually talk is a job requirement as we transition into working from home, and the easiest way to stay in touch with everyone — especially when we’re more secluded than ever. And video chat! I’d rather go to my coworker’s house in the middle of a pandemic and speak to them in real life than let them watch me in my natural habitat from a terrible angle. (Don’t worry, I won’t.) I love talking to my parents on the phone, of course, and FaceTiming my best friends, but beyond that, I’m an advocate for keeping our communication strictly text-based. (Said the writer, not so shockingly.)
Last week, during my first work meeting of the day, while sitting at my desk in an office-appropriate top and office-inappropriate bottoms, I missed a call from my mom. We G-chat almost everyday, and talk on the phone whenever we can, so the call didn’t feel out of the ordinary. When my meeting ended, I called her back on Google Hangouts so we could see each other — something we hadn’t done in a while. As on brand as ever, she asked what was on my face.
“A zit, mom.”
Then, shortly after, she took a deep breath and said, “I need to tell you something.”
