One of His Last Phone Calls

He had to wait two signals before she picked up. “Hello, it’s me,” he said.

“Oh, it’s you,” as if she had been expecting, “So what’s going on?”

“Nothing. I’m just calling to talk. How have you been?”

“I’m fine,” she said, “You?”

“How’s George?”

“George is fine,” she was patient. He knew she was giving him time to get into the conversation. He was quiet for a minute, looking outside the window at the surreal spots of sunlight sieved through the foliage.

“You know, it’s really hot out here today.”

“Oh yeah?” she said, “It’s snowing out here.”

“Huh, imagine that. Work is hard. But I realized something. It’s just business. So what if it doesn’t work out.”

“That does not sound like you.”

“I actually,” he laughed, “I am actually really happy. I enjoy all the hustle. And the bustle. I thrive in chaos.”

She was quiet for a little bit and then she said “You need to come back.” Did she suspect anything?

“Yeah, I’ll be back soon enough.”

“What is wrong, John?” she said, using his name for the first time in a long, long time.

“Nothing. I’ve just been having these strange thoughts lately.” But he knew he would be alright.

Leave a Reply