Christ has died, Christ is risen, and that Guy's gonna call again.

Easter Sunday, 2009. 

For months, my cell phone would ring in the middle of the night. When I would pick up, there was no answer, just a click.  If I did not answer, there would often be a voice mail left.  It was always from an "unavailable" number.  The messages were all about the same.

"you're husband's a dead man."   "I want my fucking money."  "you're husband's a fucking asshole."  "I'm gonna kill your fucking husband."

--Preaching to the choir, buddy.  I hated this- to the core of my being I hated it.  Not because they were threatening my husband, but because they were creepy and scary and also, because I couldn't leave the ringer on my phone anymore because 9 out of 10 times it was them.. so it was pointless to listen to the ringing day in and night out when they weren't actually gonna say anything to ME. Just to my voice mail. Fucking cowards.

There is irony in the fact that I was willing to answer the phone to them, but they wouldn't actually talk to me.  Such cowards.

A couple of times, they pocket dialed me.  I got a big kick out of this. I would listen to the 20 minute long voice mails and try to figure out who it was, or hope that they'd drop a name so I could run to the cops and tell them. No such luck.  They talked about what was for dinner, or the new pair of $600 shoes he just got (yes, seriously).  So stupid.   This guy was talking to his wife about dinner and nonsense, knowing full well that he just finished leaving a voice mail for a pregnant mother about how he was going to kill her husband.  Fucking animal.  I often wondered if his wife knew what he did for his money.  I figure she probably knew/knows that he is involved with organized crime.. but did she have any idea that minutes before they sat down to dinner, he was calling  a pregnant woman to threaten her and her husband?  All the while, this pregnant woman was reading a bedtime story to her 1 1/2 year old?  Maybe not. I didn't know what John was doing, so maybe she didn't either. Guess I'll never know.

Easter Sunday, 2009.  We were driving upstate to John's brother's house.  The calls started early that day.  I actually still had the ringer on, since it was so early in the day.  The calls typically came after dark.  It was one after another, after another.  Unreal. Nonstop.  The pit in my stomach grew everytime it rang again. John-- cool as a cucumber. It didn't phase him in the least. I think that bothered me as much as the calls themself.  He was not apologetic, he was not acting concerned for my state of mind. None of the above. Just drove.  I finally turned the phone off completely so I could try to enjoy some of Easter without thinking about my husband gambling away all our money and/or the mob killing him.  Diane's jarlesburg/onion dip was devine... the ham was good too.

When we got home that night, I turned my phone back on. 74 missed calls. 74.  Thanks Easter Bunny! Bok Bok!