Call Me

    It was the shrill sound of a midi ringtone that awoke the young man from his nap on the park bench. At its peel his eyes flew open and his ears instinctively acted as radars to determine its location. He leaned over, surprised to find the phone face down on the ground.

"Hello, this is..." he started to answer before being interrupted.

"Hey, it's me." It was a woman, her breath constricted and anxious. "Listen, I need to tell you something." The man had barely got in 'hold on a sec' before she plowed on with, "I’m going away, so I wanted to say goodbye. And thanks."

The man paused, deliberating the intentions of the young woman. It certainly sounded like a break up, but her urgency had him on the edge of his seat. Hoping that he could perhaps keep her from doing something rash, he said to her, "You're talking really fast, can you take a breath, please?"

A deep breath was audible, giving the man a chance to take in his surroundings since waking up. It was an autumn day, the leaves changing color but not ready to meet the ground. The chill did little to abate the teenagers playing Frisbee nearby nor the countless joggers that sent renegade detritus in his direction. He could not find who he was looking for.

 "You sound a little…different. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?" The woman said with some lamentation.

"It really has, but it’s nice to hear from you again. Can you tell me where you're going?" The man’s eyes traced the Frisbee. He shouldn’t have answered. He shouldn’t be talking to her, but his gut couldn’t ignore the bitter resignation it heard.

"I’m going to be there a while, and communication won’t be possible. I can never thank you enough, but I thought it couldn't hurt to say it once more."

Her words did not alleviate the man's growing feelings of dread. They were too final. The man ran a hand through his hair, thinking desperately. His pause seemed to agitate the voice at the other end.

The woman asked him imploringly, "Why didn’t you ever call me?”

The man gave a sincere apology, "I’m sorry, we’ve just lost touch."

"But at least I didn’t forget to say good bye," she said, comforting herself.

"Please don’t say good bye. Listen, I know why you called, and I don’t want you to do it.”

The woman tried to lighten her voice with surprise. “What do you mean?”

At this point the poor man bent over at the weight of the burden that had landed on him, the breeze wafting dust into his eyes and nostrils. He could continue on as if his hunch were correct, but he hoped to dear God that he wasn’t right. Praying the woman would prove him wrong, he remained vague.

“You know what I mean. Don’t do it.”

“How would you know? You don’t know anything that’s happened!” the woman raged at him.

“Please, tell me.”

She bit down on her watery words. “I can’t take this hell.”

“Life itself is too beautiful to ever be compared to that place.”

Scathingly, she shot at him, “What makes it so beautiful?”

The man shook. He did what he could to keep the phone steady, though he knew he was on thin ice. “It was given to you freely, don’t take it away from yourself.”

“Thank you, Mother Theresa.” The sarcasm dripped.

“There’s a lot of crap in this life. I admit that. But remember all those times when you couldn’t breath from laughing, or closed your eyes when tasting something amazing, or seeing a friend’s face light up when they see you, or...” the man listed quickly, hoping that one would strike a life-saving chord. 

The woman saved him from coming up with further suggestions. “And love?”

“Even all those things don’t mean anything without love,” he answered.

“Kyle, tell me, do you love me?”

“I love you. Don’t take yourself out of my life.”

Splinters dug in as the man gripped the park bench. He waited for what was to come next. “Say something,” he croaked.

“I’m here,” she answered finally. “Thank you. I…need to see you.”

“We can meet at Cal Anderson.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time, then.” A smile was laced in the woman’s reply, but the words left the man frozen.

“I live in Spokane. Kyle knows I live in Spokane. I don’t know who you are, or why you have Kyle’s cell phone, but thank you.”

There was the beep of an incoming call. He looked up to see another man, slightly older than himself, bent low with a borrowed cell on one ear, while the other sought after a shrill, midi ringtone.