These Dreams of You

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After a moment the official says, “All right,” pointing to the telephone. “If it’s a number from back home then you need to dial zero one.” This confuses Viv, and in her fatigue she finds herself punching the wrong numbers. The other official from the train dials for her and hands her the phone.

It rings several times and her heart leaps when there’s an answer. “Zan!” she says, but no one says anything. “Zan, it’s me,” and then there’s a distant, abrupt expletive in a foreign language. “Zan,” she says again, “it’s Viv, where are you?” before the line goes dead. “That wasn’t him,” she says to the officials.

“I dialed correctly,” says the official who dialed the phone.

“It wasn’t him.” She thinks she’s going to cry again and says, “Can I make one more call? It’s local — I think it’s local. I’m pretty sure. I don’t have the number but maybe it’s listed.” A minute later she says on the phone, “James? Sorry to wake you so late. It’s Viv. I’m in London.”