ENCHANTÉ – Once Precious Loves call on the Heliphone


Once you reach a certain age the heliphone starts ringing. It always does around or a while after midnight. Nowadays, it rings more often. Past loves are calling in from the afterlife. The other night it was Amalia.

“I didn’ t see you at my funeral. Why didn’t you come? Why not bring me any flowers? After all, we spent some good times together.”

“Oh, dearest Amalia! Your voice sounds just like before. Australia was a bit far for me. Where are you now?”

“Much farther than Australia. You remember that day in the dunes?”

“Wonderful. I often dream of it.”

“So how come you didn’t marry me?”

“Blame it on my immaturity. I didn’t realize how good you would’ve been for me.”

“That figures; you were proposing all over the place after you left me. Are you any happier now?”

“It would’ve been nicer to share our lives together. If I’d had more than one life, I would’ve done it.”

“I’ll keep a seat reserved for you here then. Till soon.”

The heliphone broke off. That “soon” gave me the shivers.  I got up and made myself a stiff Martini. What did she know?

Earlier this week, I got another call, from Irene.

“Nobody came to my funeral. Only Cindy, you remember, our bridesmaid, and that bloody husband of mine who’d left me by myself most of the time. Why did you divorce me? “

“Probably for the same reason your second husband left you alone.”

“We had so much fun together, don’t you remember that sofa?”

“I do, delightful, but you embezzled my money.”

“Come on. All that paper’s just monopoly money. You can’t take it over here.”

“What’s over here?”

“The purgatory. I don’t know why they put me here. It’s always cold. I spent time enough in jail.”

“Terrible. It surprised me you got yourself married again.”

“I got him the same way I got you.”

“How’s that?”

“By pretending he’d made me pregnant.”

“Yeah, I remember that. I think the purgatory is fine for you.”

The line broke off. I shivered again and took another Lorazepam. Was I lucky I got rid of her. She took all my money and still keeps calling me.  That heliphone is a nightmare.

Mid-week wasn’t any better. It was Marilou, the fat girl from Switzerland, who I heard via the grapephone had suddenly passed away.

“I got heart trouble because I was overweight.”

“I’m so sorry, Marilou. I guess you’ve got plenty to eat now and can’t die anymore.”

“I still hate you. You only made love to me in the Alps because you got high rubbing my big boobs. You were a pervert.”

“I remember your telling me that. I broke my back lifting you up all the time because you couldn’t stay up on your skis.”

“I offered you my millions of Swiss Francs, but you only wobbled in between my boobs, said ‘Ahhh,’ and left me.”

“You told me the Swiss tycoon you married did it for you boobs too.”

“He was supposed to go before me. Now he’s got all my money and married an ultra slim pin-up from Vanity Fair.”

“Are you calling him too?”

“His phone is off the hook. I hate Vanity Fair.”

The heliphone died away. Marilou was one of those sad moments in life you want to forget but keep being reminded of. How did she get my number?

Last night was the worst ever. It was Anita, my biggest regret in love life.

“I wish I’d married you.”

“A bit late to tell me that now. What happened?”

“My husband murdered me.”

“Oh no! Why?”

“Because I kept dreaming aloud at night mentioning your name, saying that I loved you.”

“I hope they put him on death row.”

“Death row does not exist in my country. But hell does here.”

“Awful. You think I could do anything?”

“Go to his prison and poison him. I want him in hell right now where they’ll knife him with red-burning forks every second.”

“But they’d catch me and put me in prison as well.”

“Don’t worry. I’m told we have our ways up here and I’ll protect you.”

“But I won’t get you back, Anita. What’s the point?”

“You’ll be here soon enough, darling, and we’ll live happily ever after.”

That was enough to whip me into a frenzy and I swallowed two Lorazepams, but nonetheless, I stayed awake all night, shaking.

I’m on my way to Oslo now with a dose of cyanide wrapped in foil paper and my heliphone in my pocket to get word where that prison is. Pray for my soul.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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