41/90, Can you spell that?

I made an international call from my cell phone this morning.

After dialing and dialing an English cell phone number two weeks ago only to receive a busy signal and then nothing at all, I'd given up. I punched the number into Skype time after time, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping for it to ring. There would be silence. When I opened my eyes, it was always the same message. Not allowed to dial this number.

We were sure that our money was lost, somewhere across the Atlantic Ocean. Then, on Thursday, another e-mail. "I still stand by my word i am an honest and trustworthy person." We will hold the apartment.

My heart was pounding. I was sure "our future tenant," as he still mistakenly calls himself, would never pop up in my inbox again. Now, here he was in the middle of a week dedicated to planning my life. Things were falling into place, and now this. With so many things going right, I was convinced that this too would be okay.


When he first asked for a larger deposit to hold our apartment in France, my stomach dropped. I asked for our funds back, to cancel the deal, to "help them find someone that could more easily pay them." I tried to keep faith.

When he stopped responding, my stomach hardened. I tried to block it out, to pretend it never happened. When the police told my I didn't have proof of fraud, I tried to resign myself and move on.


Then, last night a new cell phone number popped up in my inbox. Call my parents, "our future tenant" suggested. So I did.

I dialed the number in Skype and closed my eyes. Silence. Not allowed to dial this number. I opened my phone and punched the digits, careful to get it exactly right. I remembered the 011 +44.

It was ringing. And then I was talking to a man. And then he was giving me an e-mail. And then the line was breaking up. "Info-full-stop-what?" I'm sorry. The line is fuzzy.

Hello? Can you...? Yes. I hear you, but... Hello? Yes. Info-full-stop...Can you spell that again?


Then we were saying then you. Then we were hanging up. Then I was typing, and now I am waiting.

I am waiting with this renewed excitement and optimism. I know that it may be futile, that this phone number may not match this "info" e-mail and the e-mail could go to some confused e-mail operator. This could all be an extended line of misleading communication. For today, I'll keep checking my e-mail every five minutes and saying, "Well, maybe. We could be okay."