Video Calls

It’s so bizarre… So, so, so bizarre. When was the last time you accidentally dialed your own phone number? You’re playing on your phone and suddenly a robotic female voice is saying:

Please enter your password. Then hit pound. 

It happens about once, maybe twice a week to me. Typically, when my phone takes that trip from the hand to the pocket. The last time I did it was actually pretty memorable because I was presenting quarterly reports and the magical butt fairy didn’t only dial, but also hit the speaker button. 

The last time was embarrassing. This is just bizarre. 

“Hello?” I say. My mind is an iceberg, frozen. Unable to send the message to my limbs that I should be shaking. Unable to send the message to my finger to hang up. 

“Hey… turn the phone landscape and this will be easier.”

Before I turn my phone, I check to make sure that I did in fact call myself. I did. I turn my phone sideways and what was one video call becomes two staring back at me.

“That’s better. Can you see both of us?” 

“Yeah… I mean…. Ummm.” 

This would be strange enough if this was a video call off of a self call, but the wild thing is the people staring back at me are, well, me. 

“Are you me?” I ask, not completely sure. They have my cheeks, and I can almost smell the sweet pea perfume. They both have my mysterious chestnut eyes, which I think are my best feature, however they are both slightly different. 

The left is in better light, the one on the right’s skin seems a little softer. Their weight is different, but only noticeable because they are side by side. It’s like looking at myself with twenty more pounds. They are both me. Or are they?

“We are.” The me on the left says. The right nods. 

“Okay. What do I regret from when we were seven?”

“You regret not going trick or treating,” the one on the right answers me. 

That’s true. I never forgave myself for letting my brother talk me out of trick or treating that year because I had cut my hair on my own for my costume. 

“How many times did I apply to Waffle House before I got the job?”

“Eight… Because the first seven times you were too young, and you simply didn’t stop,” the me on the left answers.

I really wanted that job. In my youth I had a baking phase where I thought waffles were the best thing in the world, and I thought working at Waffle House would give me a leg up to my culinary dreams. I was twelve and after the 8th application they let me shadow an employee for a day ending that dream.

“Fair… To keep me sane, left you are Clara (my first name), Right Mika (my middle name).” 

They both nod. 

“Okay, now that we have that established who, maybe I can ask why?”

“We are here to help you.”

“With what Mika?” I ask. 

“Your lawsuit,” Clara answers.

This jolts me. The lawsuit is a drag on my being. I know the suit is the right thing to do, but that doesn’t make it easy. My coffee has lost that nutty bold smell I always loved. The birds don’t seem to chirp as loudly on my walks. The weight never leaves my shoulders and while it’s not my first thought in the morning, it’s usually my last. 

“That’s great. Do you have advice? Information?” I ask digging for anything to give me a leg up.

“You lose,” Clara and Mika say in unison. “We are here to tell you that no matter what you do, you lose.”

Huh… I lose? That doesn’t make sense. My lawyer said I have an exceptional case and the civil case will be stronger after the criminal case is done.  

“What do you mean?” 

“We mean you lose,” Clara says. “That no matter what you do, you lose the case. The criminal case doesn’t go well.”

“Then why are there two of you? Are you telling me I should just drop the complaint?” I ask.

“One of us dropped the charges. The other didn’t,” Mika says. “We are here to give you an idea of what’s coming.”

“I won’t know which is which. How is a puzzle without the border any help? How are you here?”

“The how isn’t important. The conversation is fully in your control. If you hit end, this conversation ends and you won’t see us again.”

I’m very tempted to hang up. I’ve been to burning man and interviewed the president and this is the most surreal experience of my life. How can I be sure this is real? If so, should I have any idea what is coming? Isn’t knowing the future a burden? Will it lock it in stone? I won’t even know which is which. 

But my curiosity is tickling me and the words of my father that have guided my every step ring through my head: “knowledge is just mud, ready to be sculpted into the life you want to make.”

“So you can’t tell me what choice you made, but you can tell me things about your life?”

Both nod. 

“Okay then, let me ask my most pressing question: Where are you financially?”

“I wouldn’t say that’s the most important thing, but we will answer,” Mika says. 

Of course you wouldn’t think that. But you probably aren’t spending your evenings delivering food you can’t afford yourself.

“In many ways, I’m where you are now. Not as comfortable as I would like to be, but surviving.” Mika must see the doubt in my eyes and eyebrows, because she quickly expands. “We are making money, but I don’t have as much in savings as I would like. We carry consumer debt and while I look like I’m making money, I’m a normal American, carrying the yoke of debt.”

That’s disappointing. However, I can’t be too upset if we are just average Americans. That’s a far cry from ramen and a small flat. It sounds like Mika has a consistent income and can put food on the table. Mika’s wearing a very well constructed blouse and her nails are professionally done. That’s more than I can say for Clara’s baggy off shoulder tee, and unruly, messy bun. 

“Clara?”

“I jump between jobs. I probably paint more than Mika, but I don’t think I ever really stepped onto that career path like she did.”

My throat bypasses my stomach on its way to the soles of my feet. No career path? Jump between jobs. “So, we are in the same place?” I ask, hoping beyond hope that I have more than a life of living paycheck and paycheck in the gig economy from hell.

“I wouldn’t say that. I can’t know for sure, but I don’t have any debt, well outside the mortgage for the two-bedroom flat. I have about three grand in savings, and because I never had a lot, I don’t spend a lot. Believe it or not, I have kept the bug going.”

“Really?” Mika asks. “You still have our yellow bug, Brad?”

“He’s orange now, but yeah.”

“Hey… Hey guys, focus…” I’m not sure that Clara’s life is something that interests me. It sounds aimless, but it sounds stable. Mika has a defined purpose, but I can see the bags and the same worry in her smile I see in the mirror. Only one on a true financial cliff can understand. “What about health?”

“I have my bumps and bruises,” Clara says with a fallen smile. “My jobs don’t exactly get me the best insurance. I have a few chronic things I struggle with. Quite a bit of anxiety, but I try not to focus on that.”

“Did you catch the big thing?” Mika asks.

“Yes, but I’m good. You?”

“I am as well.”

“The big thing?” I ask as the two of them. “What big thing?” 

Mika shakes her head. “Unfortunately, we can’t say.”

WTF…. WTF…. They can’t tell me? What type of bullshit is that? What good are they if they can’t tell me? The phone’s blurry. Do I have a brain tumor? Is this the start of the big thing? 

“Stop shaking the phone,” Mika says. “We can’t say more because it reveals too much and may not happen to you. That’s the most that I can say.”

I’m seriously thinking about hanging up the phone. Or throwing it against the wall. This isn’t helping my anxiety. Is it cancer? A heart attack? Some horrible accident? 

“Health wise I’m well,” Mika interrupts my runaway thoughts. “I have a daily yoga practice. I run. I have good doctors that I’m very happy with, mainly because of my employer’s health insurance. The anxiety thing’s rough, but tea and yoga help.”

For the next hour, the interrogation becomes a conversation. Mika doesn’t have kids. Clara has a seven year old girl, that is her world, two cats, and a puppy. Both have been in and out of relationships. Mika’s were more meaningful. Clara’s gave her a daughter. 

Both have traveled a surprising amount and both have their share of struggles and demons. Clara holds a different type of stress, but is happy and content. Her life is similar to what I have now and outside of winning the lottery or getting lucky in the arts, her life isn’t going to change. She lives for her daughter and tries to keep things as stable as she can for her. Mika is making her way up the career ladder, and while money may be tight, if she makes a little more or stops the lifestyle creep, that won’t be an issue. From what I can gather, Mika is on the cusp of a tax bracket where things bills are an afterthought. With a perspective shift and a few more promotions, the world could be her oyster. 

“I think I have one final question: How long did it take you to get over… Well, you know… What happened?”

Mika and Clara light up with sad smiles. 

“You finally got around to the most important question,” Mika says. 

“If she didn’t ask it, I was going to answer anyway,” Clara huffs. “Mika, do you want to go first?”

“Nah… Why don’t you?”

I turn the phone back to portrait, and Clara fills my screen. 

“I wish I could tell you that I’m over it. That when I wake up and see my daughter’s face that it is just a bad memory. But with my anxiety, with my finances, I can’t help but wonder what if at times. The injustice still stings. It still hurts, and when life is hard, when money’s a little tight, I wander more about what if.. What if the world was fair? What if I had had a civil settlement? The sting doesn’t go away, but I don’t walk around with the weight I see on your shoulders. I no longer let it define me.”

“Thank you Clara. Mika?”

“I still carry the weight. I wouldn’t say it stings, and my choice doesn’t rule my life. I feel jilted by the system, but it doesn’t sting, it doesn’t hurt. I don’t have as many what if’s, but I can say that the weight hasn’t gone away. Every day I feel the case. My yoga helps, a good mint tea is nice, but I’m not sure if this stone will ever go away. I find myself more asking why is there injustice, not just mine, but overall. I wonder what it will take to get this weight off of my shoulders? Will I wake up one morning and enjoy my tea a little more? Will I hear the birds a little clearer?”

Now I’m lost. I was leaning towards Clara, not being the one who followed through, but who knows. Maybe the reason she doesn’t have a career is because she spent so many years fighting. Maybe the reason she doesn’t carry the weight is because she did all that she could. This yoke that defines me still hangs around Mika’s neck. Is she unable to shed it because she didn’t see it through or because injustice was served?

“Thank you.” 

Is how I end the call before putting my phone down. Should I follow Mika or Clara’s path? How would I even know? What my father said comes back to me and I smile. I have more mud now and maybe I can craft something entirely new regardless of my choice.