Jared Freed

I practiced saying, hi, is Morgan home?

And would you want to be my girlfriend?

Over and over and over again until I felt sure I couldn't mess it up.

I got her number from the previously mentioned phone book and picked up my house's second phone line.

Do you remember the second line?

When a call came through and someone was already on the phone, the call would push through to the other line.

Our second line was one number away from our first line, 9022 and 9021.

Yes, like 90210.

Yes, I used that as a pickup line multiple times in high school.

And maybe a couple of days ago at a bar in the West Village.

For some reason, I decided that it would be safer to use the second line to permanently alter the trajectory of my existence.

I picked up that receiver and started to dial.

Almost the instant I pushed the seventh and final number, my mom picked up the phone.

Jared, who are you calling?

Why are you on the second line?

She screamed.

She continued yelling questions in rapid succession and increasing volume without leaving any space for me to answer.

More accusations than inquiries in classic Jewish mom style.

Jared?

Jared, answer me.