The Man From Chicago
luis c. berriozabal
"I know why you are calling," said the man in Chicago. "You want money," he said in a sarcastic tone. Unable to get a word in, the man in Chicago said, "I have not seen my son in three years. I don't know where he is." I explain to the man in Chicago that I know where his son is. That is the reason I am calling. I try to explain to the man that his son is hospitalized in a mental health ward. I am calling to inform him how his son is doing and who he could talk to if he ever wanted to know how his son was doing. The man from Chicago cut in again, repeating everything he said before, "I know why you are calling. You want money. I have not seen my son in three years. I don't know where he is." Exasperated, I want to chuckle. I told the man from Chicago, "You don't seem to understand what I am trying to tell you. I will hang up now. Goodbye." I thought to myself, Does madness run in this family? The man in Chicago claimed he was the father of the young man I called about. Perhaps the family is so burned out, they probably did not want to know anything about the young man in the hospital. I figured my first thought was probably the right one and the one person that answered the phone was the only one who shared the young man's illness or I could be wrong.