Everybody, Always

“Hi, this is Bob.”
“Will you call Shanice for me?” said the inmate.
I started laughing. “Buddy, I’d love to help you, but I’m not sure how
I could even do that for you.” Then I remembered I could press a button
on my phone and conference her into the call.
“Let me try to patch her in. What’s her number?” He gave it to me,
and I immediately understood how he’d misdialed me in the first place.
Her number was almost identical to the number in the back of Love Does.
I dialed the number. It rang a couple of times before someone picked
it up, but it wasn’t Shanice. It was a guy. I wasn’t trying to listen in, but it
was a conference call, so I was already on the line. “Where’s Shanice?”
my jail friend asked. “She’s with me now,” the other guy grunted, and
then he hung up.
I was so sad for my new friend in jail, but I could also understand how
complicated relationships can be and why people move on with their lives
when someone they loved is away in jail for a long time. I hung up the
phone, shook my head, and went back to work.
And then the phone rang again.
“Hello, you have a call from.. .” I pressed # 5.
“Will you call my mother?”
I laughed. It was like I was this guy’s concierge. “You bet, friend.
What’s her number?” I said, amused at how my day was turning out. I
dialed the number he gave me.
The phone rang a couple of times, and while it was still just the two of
us on the line, I told him I thought it was great he was calling his mom.
On the fifth ring, his mother answered. They said a few things to each
other, then my new friend said, “Mom, I just wanted to call to let you
know that I love you.” She didn’t say anything in response. She hung up
on him.
I welled up. It was just my jail friend and me on the phone again. I
didn’t know what to say, so I offered, “Man, I’m so sorry that happened.
That’s got to hurt.” I was thinking perhaps he had tried to reach his