Midnight Phone Call

This is such a wonderful story, that I had to pass it on. Hope it blesses you.

Midnight Phone Call

We all know what it's like to get that phone call in the middle of the night.This night's call was no different. Jerking up to the ringing summons, Ifocused on the red illuminated numbers of my clock. Midnight.Panicky thoughts filled my sleep-dazed mind as I grabbed the receiver..Hello?"My heart pounded; I gripped the phone tighter and eyed my husband, whowas now turning to face my side of the bed.Mama?" I could hardly hear the whisper over the static. But my thoughtsimmediately went to my daughter. When the desperate sound of a youngcrying voice became clearer on the line, I grabbed for my husband and squeezed his wrist."Mama, I know it's late, but don't...don't say anything, until I finish.And before you ask, yes, I've been drinking. I nearly ran off the road a few miles back, and..."I drew in a sharp shallow breath, released my husband and pressed myhand against my forehead. Sleep still fogged my mind, and I attempted tofight back the panic. Something wasn't right."And I got so scared. All I could think about was how it would hurt youif a policeman came to your door and said I'd been killed. I want...to comehome. I know running away was wrong. I know you've been worried sick. I should have called you days ago, but I was afraid...afraid..."Sobs of deep-felt emotion flowed from the receiver and poured into myheart. Immediately I pictured my daughter's face in my mind and my foggedsenses seemed to clear. "I think-""No! Please let me finish! Please!" She pleaded, not so much in anger butin desperation...I paused and tried to think of what to say. Before I could go on, shecontinued, "I'm pregnant, Mama. I know I shouldn't be drinking now...especially now,
but I'm scared, Mama. So scared!" The voice broke again and I bit into my lip,
feeling my own eyes fill with moisture. I looked at my husband who sat silently
mouthing, "Who is it?"I shook my head and when I didn't answer, he jumped up and left the room,returning seconds later with the portable phone held to his ear. She musthave heard the click in the line because she continued, "Are you still there?Please don't hang up on me! I need you. I feel so alone."I clutched the phone and stared at my husband, seeking guidance. "I'mhere, I wouldn't hang up," I said."I know I should have told you, Mama. But when we talk, you just keeptelling me what I should do. You read all those pamphlets on how to talkabout sex and all, but all you do is talk. You don't listen to me. You neverlet me tell you how I feel. It is as if my feelings aren't important. Because
you're my mother, you think you have all the answers. But sometimes Idon't need answers. I just want someone to listen."I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared at the how-to-talk-to-your-kidspamphlets scattered on my night stand. "I'm listening," I whispered. "You know,
back there on the road, after got the car under control, I started thinking about
the baby and taking care of it. Then I saw this phone booth and it was as if I could
hear you preaching about people shouldn't drink and drive. So I called a taxi. I want to come home.""That's good, Honey," I said as relief filled my chest. My husband camecloser, sat down beside me and laced his fingers through mine. I knewfrom his touch that he thought I was doing and saying the right thing..."But you know, I think I can drive now.""No!" I snapped. My muscles stiffened, and I tightened the clasp on myhusband's hand. "Please, wait for the taxi. Don't hang up on me untilthe taxi gets there." "I just want to come home, Mama.""I know. But do this for your mama. Wait for the taxi, please." I listenedto the silence in fear. When I didn't hear her answer, I bit into my lip and closed my eyes. Somehow I had to stop her from driving."There's the taxi, now." Only when I heard someone in the background asking about a Yellow Cab did I feel my tension easing.."I'm coming home, Mama." There was a click and the phone went silent.Moving from the bed with tears forming in my eyes, I walked out into the halland went to stand in my sixteen-year-old daughter's room. The dark silencehung thick. My husband came from behind, wrapped his arms around me andrested his chin on the top of my head. I wiped the tears from my cheeks. "We haveto learn to listen," I said.
He pulled me around to face him. "We'll learn. You'll see." Then he tookme into his arms, and I buried my head in his shoulder. I let him hold mefor several moments, then I pulled back and stared back at the bed. Hestudied me for a second, then asked, "Do you think she'll ever know she dialed the wrong number?"I looked at our sleeping daughter, then back at him."Maybe it wasn't such a wrong number.""Mom, Dad, what are you doing?" The muffled young voice came from under the covers. I walked over to my daughter, who now sat up staring into thedarkness. "We're practicing," I answered. "Practicing what?" she mumbled and laid back on the mattress, her eyes already closed in slumber."Listening," I whispered, and brushed a hand over her cheek.