Alex answered a phone call from her own number. She stared at the screen for several seconds, unsure who could be calling or how. She poured the final remnants of Bordeaux into her glass, grabbed a fresh bottle and weaved to the couch. Alex sank into the cushions and set the bottle on the floor. Puzzled, she sipped while staring at the screen. The lights went out along with the radio. Lightning flashed. The window shook from the explosion of thunder. She jumped in her seat almost spilling her drink. Alex took a deep breath, swallowed the contents of her glass before thumbing the phone on and answering.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hello? Can you hear me?” The voice sounded like a child; young, maybe seven or eight years old. Another crash of thunder and a blinding flash outside the window made Alex gasp with surprise.

 

“Are you okay?” The child’s voice sounded worried and a bit scared at the same time.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. There’s a storm outside and it made me jump.” Alex rubbed her silver locket between her thumb and forefinger, making a silent wish against the insistent drum of rain on the window.

 

“Wow! There’s a thumnder here too. How did you know?” The child sounded a little less afraid.

 

Alex reached for the overstuffed pillow at the other end of the couch huddling herself around it as she crossed her legs. In her mind’s ear she could hear her mom admonishing her about phones or TV during a storm. She remembered the phone in the kitchen of her childhood, black Bakelite fixed to the wall with its spiral cord like a lifeline reaching all the way to the sink. They had a party line, then, didn’t they? Sometimes, you could even dial your own number, hang up and the phone would ring.

 

“Hey,” she tried consoling the child on the line, “What’s your name, hun?”

 

“Ummm, Allie, but sometimes Mommy calls me Alexandra Violet.”

 

Alex coughed, choking on her wine when she heard her own name. Half to herself, aloud though she didn’t mean to, she whispered, “Or when she’s trying to get you attention it gets longer like Alexandra Violet Patterson.” She could hear the little girl on the phone agreeing with her. She continued, “My friends call me Alex.”

 

“Oh, wow! We have almost the same name!”

 

Another crash of thunder made her hug the pillow tighter. A shiver ran along her spine as she paused, staring at the screen, the number glowed in the shadows, definitely hers. And the little girl’s name; impossible.

 

“Allie, where are your folks?” It’s not the question I want to ask but she’s only a kid. How did she get this number?

 

“Oh, they went out to a movie. They’ll be back soon.”

 

As Alex reached down for the bottle she remembered a lonely night when she was so, so young.

 

Janet, their favorite babysitter had come over and fallen asleep watching TV.

 

Alex propped it in between her knees while she struggled to open it. She filled the glass and took a long swallow.

 

Janet, crying much later when —

 

Alex shook her head and drank a bit more.

 

“Grease, right?” Her own voice sounded distant as the jigsaw pieces of her memory fit together. Date night. Mom wanted so badly to see John Travolta in skinny jeans and Bryllcreemed hair.

 

“Yeah, that’s the one! Daddy says there’s singing and dancing, too. How did you know? Have you seen it?”

 

A lump grew in Alex’s throat and her nose stung. Imminent tears welled in her eyes as she swore under her breath. She bit the back of her hand trying to steady herself. Alex nodded in the darkness, unable to trust her voice. A thousand times, she thought. God, how she hated that movie.

 

Several seconds passed and a clap of thunder before she could speak. Alex drank a bit more wine and mumbled, “Yeah, I’ve seen it a few times.”

 

“Is it good? I hope Mommy and Daddy take me, next time.”

 

Alex buried her face in the pillow she clutched. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she relived that night, waiting for them to come home; sitting on the kitchen floor, playing with the long cord of the phone. She remembered being bored and while the rain poured outside she dialed the phone looking for someone to talk to, anyone.

 

The little girl on the line spoke again, hearing Alex’s distress. “Are you ok, Alex? It’s only rain and thumnder. Daddy says the lightning is God trying to see through the clouds.”

 

Thumnder. Alex laughed out loud. She had forgotten that word. Mom would giggle every time she said it; never correcting her, like the word belonged in the dictionary. For a moment, Alex knew Mom and Dad were just leaving the theater and would be home in a few minutes after stopping to bring home banana splits for everyone. She sniffled a few times before speaking.

 

“Thumnder is my new favorite word. Thank you, Allie. I think my mom would have liked it too.” She tugged gently on the locket, a precious treasure and lifesaver in times of extreme stress. Inside, you could see a picture of the three of them taken that spring, long ago.

 

“What are your favorite things, Allie?” She knew the answers but needed the comfort and sound of the girl’s voice before the terrible things happen.

 

“Daddy has this big black baseball cap with a green frog on it. He calls it a Rain Frog. It has little circles on it and big green toes.” While she spoke, Alex stared at the black cap atop the bookcase. A green frog in native style stitched just above the brim. She wore it in the summer, almost always when it rained.

 

“And Mommy has a silver necklace. Silllvver.” She stretched the sound just like Mom did. “It has a heart with us all in it. She says the big A on it is for Alexandra. That’s me!”

 

Alex’s fingers traced the A the little girl spoke of and her nose stung again. She turned in over and mused aloud. “And, the V on the other side is for Violet, right?”

 

“Unh-huh. How did you know? Mommy says I’m named for her and Daddy.”

 

Alexander and Violet. Alex used to wonder what she would have been named if she had been a boy. She got to her feet and wobbled a moment before changing her mind and sitting back down. Can’t make coffee with no power. She poured another glass of wine and chuckled aloud.

 

“What’s so funny,” Allie asked.

 

“I was just thinking you are a very lucky girl to be named for both your parents. They love you very much.” She could almost see the little girl beam with pride through the phone.

 

“Alex, what about your favorite things? What do you like?”

 

“Me? I dunno. I like red wine. And banana splits —“

 

“Ewwww! Together?”

 

“No, silly. Not together,” but she laughed too, thinking how strange she put them together like that. “I used to like Lego and Tinkertoys.”

 

Alex grimaced in the dark. Yes, used too, until she had to stand barefoot on them for hours because … But Allie didn’t need to know that.

 

“How come you used to? Did your Mommy and Daddy say you were too big for them?”

 

And, suddenly, Alex remembered the cinnamon-colored bear she would drag everywhere until Dad sat him up on the shelf to guard the room for her while they went on adventures together, playing with Lego or going for walks.

 

The storm outside had changed, raging stronger as Alex felt smaller, helpless in the stream of memories; things no child should endure. She couldn’t tell Allie why wine had become her best friend. The few treasures she held on to going from one home to another held secrets of a past she had buried along with her name. No one called her Allie anymore or even Alexandra. It only took two homes to discover that no one else would ever be Mommy or Daddy. After the first home she stopped asking for anything.

 

“Rocking, rolling, riding, out along the bay,” Allie sang into the phone in a quiet voice. Alex imagined she was rocking her bear to sleep while talking to her.

 

She chimed in, singing in reply, “All bound for Morningtown many miles away…” She paused, wiping her eyes in the darkness. “That’s my favorite lullaby.”

 

“Daddy sings it to me.”

 

“I remember.”

 

Curiosity in the child’s voice as she asked, “Did your Daddy sing it to you, too?”

 

Alex didn’t trust her voice, nodding as she stared out the window at the storm.

 

Allie, continued humming on her end, not sure of the words and then said, “Sometimes Mommy sings along.”

 

“Allie, can you do something for me?,” Alex pulled the pillow close again.

 

“Unh-hunh! I’m the best helper, ever. Daddy —“

 

“Says so every time,” Alex finished. She missed him, both of them, really.

 

“Allie, what is your phone number?” She held her phone away, looking at the screen.

 

“Oh, that’s easy. I know my phone number by heart. For emergency.” She rattled off the number into the phone in a sing-song tone, pleased with herself. Sure enough, it was the same number on her screen, the very first phone she had ever gotten many years ago. She had the option of choosing a number; this very one.

 

“You are amazing. Did you know that I have exactly the same phone number?”

 

“Really? We’re like twins!” Allie sounded excited.

 

“Yes, like twins. The thing I need you to do is never lose this number. Remember it always. Can you do that?”

 

Alex could feel the little girl’s nod in her voice, “Forever and ever, right?”

 

“Forever and ever.” It wouldn’t matter, she thought, remembering trying to call home two weeks later and hearing a recording telling her the number had been disconnected. “Allie, listen to me. It’s time to go wake up Janet. Can you do that for me?”

 

She heard the pause on the other end. Allie probably sat up wide-eyed in surprise staring at the black receiver. “Alex?”

 

In her mind’s eye, her memory, she could see Allie standing in the entrance of the family room, her eyes fixed on the sleeping babysitter. “Alex,” the little girl continued, “how did you know about Janet sleeping?”

 

“Nevermind that now, Allie. You really need to wake her up before —“ Before the world comes crashing down when they bring the terrible, terrible news.

 

Alex heard Allie on the other end move, going to the kitchen window seeing police cars in the pouring rain, officers coming up the walk as she said, “Wow! All those red lights. Oooooh and pretty blue ones. Alex, you should see!”