The phone rings, but we don’t answer. We never answer.
“You’ve reached the Gilbert residence, please leave a message after the beep”
BEEEEP!
As the voicemail records, we all sit frozen on the couches, as if any movement or sound would give our presence away. It’s Aunt Ali. And unless Mother is in the house, there’s no chance that phone is getting picked up - and she knows it.
“Pickup-pickup-pickup….I know you’re there...pickup-pickup-pickup”
We shake our heads, “no we’re not.”
She repeats this several times, sighs, and hangs up.
We recommence talking and moving...until the phone rings again.
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