Left Behind

This vignette was included in Vine Leaves Literary Journal Issue #2

and The Best of Vine Leaves Literary Journal 2012.

This photo seemed perfect for sharing it again.

Left Behind

Theresa Milstein

            Jen’s fingers trembled as she dialed the phone. If her friends could see her now, they’d call her pathetic. But she had to speak to him.

            “Hello. This is Michael. Please leave your name and number at the sound of the beep and I’ll return your call as soon as possible.” 

            Jen hesitated before speaking. Too long. The receiver beeped and she jumped in surprise.  She disconnected the call. Hit speed dial. 

            “Hello. This is Michael. Please leave your name and number at the sound of the beep and I’ll return your call as soon as possible.” 

            She spoke quickly so the machine wouldn’t cut her off. “Hello,  Michael? This is Jen. I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice again. I miss you.” She inhaled. “Can you hear me?  Where are you?”

            A beep signaled the call had disconnected. Although her heart rumbled like an engine, she couldn’t stop now. Had to say it. He had to hear it.

“Hello. This is Michael. Please leave your name and number at the sound of the beep and I’ll return your call as soon as possible.”

“Michael, it’s me again—Jen. I know I shouldn’t keep calling. But what choice do I have? What you were thinking when you drove away? Do you even know? Did you give me a second thought as you flew out of my driveway? Your mother used to say…”

The beep signaled. She’d taken too long this time. Jen growled in frustration, stabbed the redial button.

“Hello. This is Michael. Please leave your name and number at the sound of the beep and I’ll return your call as soon as possible.”

His voice taunted her, mocking her sorry state. This time, she didn’t bother introducing herself.  “This is all your fault. Did you think I’d lose it like this? We had plans, Michael.  Do you remember them?  You’re so selfish.  How could you do this to me?”

Jen sobbed into incoherence before the machine cut her off. It took her a few minutes to calm down enough to dial. She couldn’t leave things like this.

“Hello. This is Michael. Please leave your name and number at the sound of the beep and I’ll return your call as soon as possible.”

Now his voice sounded like velvet—all animosity gone. Jen’s words cracked with sorrow and defeat. “Remember that day you made the picnic spread and surprised me with the ring in my fruit salad, and it was all sticky when you tried to put it on my finger? I can still hear you say, ‘This ring is a promise of forever.’ I trusted you’d keep your promise. I never needed a man to validate me. But after we fell in love, you became my present and my future. I don’t know who I am without you.”

This time, Jen cut the call. She closed her eyes, inhaled and exhaled. And redialed one last time.

“Hello. This is Michael. Please leave your name and number at the sound of the beep and I’ll return your call as soon as possible.”

 “Michael, I placed flowers on your grave today.”

            

http://magpietales.blogspot.com/2015/06/mag-274.html