The worst part of it all is that I can’t even remember her name.

I still remember the day we first spoke as if it was only yesterday1. I asked who she was, and although she told me her name, the words faded away, like the memory of a sweet dream2. I talked for some time with this stranger, this lady, her voice gentle and kind3, and even as she spoke I felt an aching, deep in my heart.

Before she said good bye she left me a number to call her on. I cannot pretend that the thought of calling her back doesn’t fill me with anxiety, but I know, at some point, I must stand up to my doubt.

My mind has been racing. I can’t sit still. Her words have taken me on a journey back into my own past4, and each time I find an answer it only leads to new questions5. I know what it is that I must do6, but it’s doing it that scares me.

The worst part of it all, though, is that I can’t even remember her name.7

  1. It was yesterday, actually. That’s probably why I remember it so well. [↩]
  2. Probably because she then told me she was from a debt collection service and wanted nearly £70 on behalf of British Telecom. [↩]
  3. Her words infuriating and belligerent. [↩]
  4. To the day I switched from BT to Virgin Media and the lady on the phone said they would cancel my BT contract for me – that there was absolutely no need for me to call BT. [↩]
  5. Like “how the hell can BT be trying to charge me £35 for one month on an £11pm tarriff in a month when I wasn’t even living in the house that the phone line was connected to“. [↩]
  6. Get on the phone to Virgin Media and bill them for the trouble they’ve caused me. And an administration fee for my time. [↩]
  7. If I could, I’d be able to lodge a formal complaint over the fact that she tried to tell me the minimum monthly BT package was £30pm, and tried to get me to give her my debit card details during an unsolicited phone conversation. [↩]