My wife died in a car crash 3 years ago. Last night, she called me from 1999 asking about my father's credit card bill. There was no reason for me to pick up the phone. My spam blocker flagged it immediately, but I thought, why not? My wife died 3 years ago in a car accident, and I haven't talked to another human being in weeks. Even a debt collector sounded good right now. I've been working remote web development ever since, hiding out in the woods of Northern New Jersey. The job pays welland doesn't require much human interaction, which is perfect since I've been destroying my life with wine and sleeping pills for 3 years. Hello, is this Mr. Henderson? The woman's voice was calm and professional. Senior or Junior? I replied, settling into my office chair with a bottle of wine. It was raining that night, and the wind was whipping our old pine tree so hard I thought it might fall. Senior, she said after a pause. I'm sorry, but senior died 6 years ago. I was already annoyedat their terrible recordkeeping. She paused for a long moment. That's not what we have here. I'm so sorry we weren't aware. Would you mind holding while I check my record? I could hear a filing cabinet clicking in the background as static crackled. She was probably holding the receiver to her shoulder. I actually chuckled at the terrible audio quality. No problem at all. Why don't you start by telling me your name? I asked immediately regretting the hint of loneliness in my voice. She giggled and something aboutthat laugh made my chest tighten with recognition. It sounded impossibly familiar, but I blamed it on the line. My name is Emily and I work with his credit card company. Unfortunately, we can't say which firm over the phone if you're not on the account. My heart stopped. Emily, my wife's name was Emily. I'm guessing you're Mr. Henderson's son, she continued, thumbming through papers. Yes, but it's been years since he passed. I can't possibly be stuck with his debt, right?Well, let's check. She said there was panic shuffling and opening of books in the background. I'm so sorry. The rules are in one of these three ring binders, and they're very difficult to find. Please hold. That's fine. Didn't know anybody still kept records that way. Do I get an email confirmation of this charge? Excuse me. Email like electronic mail. A confirmation. We don't do that here. Still a few years away from all those fancy features, she continued. But late payments are a serious issue. Theycan affect credit scores when large amounts haven't been paid. My blood went completely cold. Email wasn't some new technology. It had been around for decades. What kind of company was this? Is there a Mrs. Henderson in the household? She asked quietly. Mrs. Henderson died 3 years ago. What year did you say? Oh my goodness, that's horrible. I really am batting 1000 today. I gasped out loud. That phrase, that exact phrase. Not many people said batting 1000 anymore, but my wife Emily used to say it constantly. And thiswoman's name was Emily, too. The voice was different, though. Younger, happier, more optimistic than I remembered Emily ever being. What's your last name? I asked, my hands starting to shake. The line went completely silent. Look, I know that's a weird question, but please, I think we might know each. I can't give that information out. She started nervously. Did you go to Jefferson Memorial High School? Yes, she said absolutely astonished. How could you possibly know that? It wasimpossible. Emily was dead. I saw her body after the accident. I held her hand at the funeral. But this voice, this laugh, even the way she pronounced certain words, it was exactly like Emily when we first met. Is your mother's name Eva? Complete silence, then a tiny mouse-like reply. Who is this? I took a deep breath. Either I was losing my mind completely or something impossible was happening. This is going to sound really strange. What's today's date? I'm sorry. What? One moment. She shuffled papersfrantically. Today's date is July 9th, 1999. July 9th, 21 years in the past. The day I first met Emily at that coffee shop. Emily, listen to me very carefully. This conversation is getting really strange. Let's keep it to the payment plan. Listen, tomorrow you're going to meet a man at Miller's coffee shop on Fifth Street. You're going to spill coffee on his laptop and he'll say it's no problem. Don't talk to him, Emily. Walk away. That's very specific. She laughed nervously. Are you some kindof psychic or fortune teller? I'm completely serious. If you talk to him, you'll fall in love. You'll date for two years and marry him. It'll be the happiest time of your life. That sounds wonderful, though. But on July 9, 2020, exactly 21 years from today, he'll kill you. She shifted the phone nervously. I could hear her breathing change completely. He'll make it look like an accident. A car crash on Highway 287 during a thunderstorm, but he'll have cut your brake lines that morning beforeyou left for work. Why would he do that? Because you'll find out about the life insurance policy he took out on you, the one worth $2 million that you never signed. You'll confront him that night, and he'll know you're going to leave him. The line went quiet except for a terrified breathing. So, don't go to Miller's coffee shop tomorrow. Don't spill coffee on the man with the laptop. Don't let him buy you a replacement drink. Just walk away and find someone else to love. How do you know all this?She whispered. Because I'm him, Emily. I'm the man you're going to meet tomorrow. And in 21 years, I'm going to murder you. The line disconnected with the most blood curdling scream I've ever heard in my life. I called back immediately. Non- workinging number. I tried again and again. She never answered. I fell asleep that night wondering if I'd actually managed to save her life by warning her about myself. Maybe she'd avoid the coffee shop. Maybe she'd never meet me. Maybeshe'd live a full happy life with someone who wouldn't kill her for money. But yesterday morning when I woke up, Emily was lying next to me in bed, alive, breathing, wearing the same clothes from 21 years ago. She smiled at me and said, "Good morning, honey. I had the strangest dream about a phone call last night. She doesn't remember the call. She doesn't remember the warning. And when I looked at her wrist, I saw something that made my blood freeze. Fresh rope burns like someone had ty.Something else answered that phone call. Something that's been wearing Emily's face for 21 years, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal itself.
