When a Stranger Calls.

This past weekend Aurél was at the rock festival Rock Dan Tous Etats up near Normandy; a gift he offered his dad to thank him everything he did for the wedding and to have a weekend bonding trip tous les deux. I was asked if I would like to come along and before he could even finish the question and I quickly said no. I really am not a fan of outdoor summer festivals. Like really not. Shocking right? You'd think it was me stage diving at Lollapalooza (even if the lineup in '95 was pretty epic), but no, so not my thing. 
I did in fact go to a festival a million years ago when I was 19 called The Gathering of the Vibes up near Bard College, and it pretty much confirmed my prejudgements. Aside from the scorching heat pounding on my young, vulnerable and supple skin, the few recollections I have is the thick and dense mud that my tent was propped up. The consistency, as my foot sunk down several inches with each step, as well as the curiously foul smell, lent to suspicions that we were living on top of human feces for the weekend.
So did I want to go to the festival up North? No. A simple no surely would have sufficed but you know me, there's always a story on why.
With Aurel gone for the weekend, it meant that I was home...ALONE. Ahhh! I screamed at the top of my lungs running in and out of every room and jumping on the bed eating cereal! I wish I had done that, I really should have but no I had a weekend of dates planned with moi, turning my weekend into a spa getaway in Paris. What a diva, I know. The weekend consisted of living room yoga sessions, Velib rides to the market, experimenting with new recipes, applying homemade facial scrubs and masks using the herbs and ingredients I have in my kitchen, self waxing (ouch!), toe painting, wine tastings, champagne toasts and dancing with myself in my living room. I'm just going to say it: it was pretty awesome. I really need to entertain myself more often. I show myself a good time!

Just as I was writing this post to you, recounting on my weekend "getaway", my phone rang. And it was private. "Allô?" "Allô" the voice on the receiving end whispered. "Who is this?" "Tu sais." he continued to whisper. "No, I don't know. You called me. Who is this?" "Je peux pas te dire." "You can't tell me? You must be trying to reach someone else. Ca arrive. Ciao."
And I hung up. You have got to be kidding me? My first weekend alone and I'm getting pranked? N'importe quoi.
20 seconds later, my phone rang again. Private.
"Oui?" I said with somewhat intrigue.  "Pourquoi t'as accroché?" he said, again still whispering. "Why did I hang up? Because I don't want to chat with someone who is unwilling to identify himself. Simple." "Tu me connais." "I know you? Okay, so what is your name?" "Je peux pas te dire. Y a trop de monde ici." "You cannot tell me your name because there are a lot of people there?" "Oui." "Okay, whatever. Good night."
I hung up. The phone rang again.
"Ecoute, if you don't stop calling, I can have this call traced with SFR. It's possible." "Je sais que tu es toute seule."
He knew that I was alone. At this point I was beyond freaked out and slithered over to the corner of the room to pull my gauzy curtains shut. Nestled in the corner of the room, I stayed on the line because I wanted to know how much information he did in fact have. It was a combination of Scream or my worst fear When A Stranger Calls. I let my imagination entertain thoughts that he was in my bedroom hence why he could not speak louder. Quelle horreur!
Every time I asked him a question about something specific about him or me (so he could confirm his claims that he knew me) he was unable and would ask me mundane questions like what I was doing. This somewhat eased my fear, and perhaps he was merely a dumb prank caller.
"Look, I'll stay on the phone with you if you just give me one piece of information about me. Like what's my name. You want to scare me, that much is obvious, so come on, scare me. What's my name?"
No response. Just heavy breathing. 
"I thought so." I hung up. Just as I was dialing Aurel, the action was interrupted by guess who? "Sir! We're done here!" I snapped. "Tu me connais, je te jure." he continued on. "I know you, yet you won't tell me your name. Communication amongst humans don't work this way." "Je comprends,"  "If you really understood, you would stop calling." "Je veux parler avec toi." "And I want Ugly Betty back on the air." I let out an exhale to display my exasperation. "Okay, what does my name start with, just the letter, allez." 
Still crouching tiger hidden me in the corner, I waited for an answer. Scrambling to respond he whispered "S". 
"Wrong answer, good bye. Also I called the police," I lied, "So if you bother me again, expect a visit from les Po Pos. Bonne nuit connard." CLICK!
For the sake of brevity of this post, I compacted all seven of his phone calls into three, but the reality was that this guy called me seven times! After my final threat he never did call back. I can't help but wonder if he will bother to call again, after all he still has my number. On a side note here, I have never been prank called in French, and as freaked out as I was I couldn't help but think, "damn, those are some pretty good conjugations going on! And the use of the subjunctive? Pas mal, pas mal!"
I finally got in touch with Aurel and he told me that there are crazy people that just dial random numbers and he just happened to luck out with getting a young female to pick up, and it was only by coincidence that he knew I was alone. I would really love to think that and will continue to do so....until he calls again. 

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