Darth Vader Takes a Call

John Williams’ “Star Wars” score announces the ringing of Darth Vader’s cell phone. The Sith Lord had been in the middle of toasting Brenda from Accounting when it turned into his dressing down of everyone gathered in the Death Star’s third-floor kitchenette and eventually his killing of a man.

He’d come to congratulate the woman on the birth of her first child but, angry that he’d been handed sparkling cider and not champagne, he’d ended up strangling the host by the power of his mind.

The phone’s ringing sends him padding madly at his pockets. There must be a million of them in that outfit of his. He makes a mental note to kill his tailor.

At last Vader finds the phone. He doesn’t recognize the number but, after all that work, takes the call.

“Hello?” he says, breathing heavily.

“Father? It’s Luke.”

            Vader is struck dumb.
            “Your son?”
            Vader curses himself silently for answering.
            “I’m most sorry but you have reached the incorrect person,” he says.
            “Father, look, I know it’s you. Who else sounds like that?”
            Vader looks up from the phone, confounded. What can that mean? he thinks. He scans the kitchenette for support but finds everyone staring at their boots in terror.
            “Look … Dad … I don’t want anything, OK?”
            “You know I detest your using that colloquialism, Luke. It is your mother’s word.”
            “Jeez, can’t a guy just call his dad for no reason? I just kind of wanted to talk.”
            Vader stiffens. “Well, why, yes. Let us talk. That would be nice.”
            Neither speaks for close to a minute.
            “It’s my birthday,” says Luke.
            “That’s right!” says Vader a little too brightly. “I meant to call.”
            “We went to the Olive Garden.”
            Vader almost smiles inside his great helmet, remembering days past when the three would celebrate occasions by devouring baskets of buttery breadsticks and wolfing down pasta. He recalls how funny Padme could be, telling silly old jokes as she sipped a glass of red wine.
            “I met a girl,” says Luke.
            Vader does smile. He’s relieved to hear the boy has romantic interest in someone other than his own sister.
            “And the Force? You’re still …?”
            Luke sighs. “Yes, Dad. And I’m doing really well.”
            Vader surprises himself. “Well, good, Son. Good for you,” he says.

Silence once more floods in, washing over the two stranded on shores so very far apart.

            “Dad.”
            “Yes.”
            “I forgive you.”