You Have One New Message
One.
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
2:47am, Friday, 8th September.
"Is this thing – oh right, shit, the beep, fuck – Wardo. Look, this is probably – like – yeah – it is a bad idea but I’m really, really drunk. Like, drunk. And ... I miss you. I want to talk to you, but you’re asleep, obviously, because you sleep at normal times and God knows what time it is where you are anyway. I – Wardo, I just – damn it. I can’t – just – urgh."
End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
8:19am, Friday, 8th September
"Eduardo. I was really drunk. I’ll delete your number. I’m sorry; can we forget this ever happened?"
End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –"
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
5:51am, Tuesday, 19th September.
"Wardo, I found your number again, I did delete it, I promise. Look, I’m drunk again, but I – I would still say this if I were sober. I miss you so God damn much. I’m – I – I’m going mad here, Wardo. I’m ... I’m sitting in this bathroom, on the floor, talking to your voicemail because ... for a few seconds I get to hear your voice in my ear again. I try to hang up ... but I always end up talking shit into your voicemail for ages, and I’m already regretting bothering you again but, fuck, Wardo, it hurts so much."
End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
11:19pm, Thursday, 12th November
"It’s raining so hard and it makes me think about when you turned up on the doorstep and I’d forgotten to pick you up at the airport. The rain always makes me think of you now, Wardo."
End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
7:16pm, Monday,16th November
"Someone should take my phone off of me when I’m drunk. I know, it’s too early to be drunk but I – why won’t you even acknowledge that I’m doing this? I mean, I feel like a total cock, because it’s embarrassing and pathetic and desperate but I just can’t help myself, and you – you – you don’t even acknowledge what a mess you make me. You make me ... I don’t even know who I am anymore. Wardo, I’m drunk on a Monday night and it’s all because being drunk is the only time that I can have the courage to hear your voice."
End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
8:41pm, Monday, 16th November
"I’m really fucking drunk. I miss – I love – I miss you."
End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
9:31pm, Monday, 16th November
"I’m sorry."
End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
10:13pm, Monday, 16th November
"I’m still really drunk. Wardo, I hope you can hear me – fucking cars, so many of them at this time – but I guess you’re not listening to these anyway. So here goes nothing. I’m sorry. I miss you, I need you, I love you. I’m happy you can go through life without me. At least I didn’t fuck up everything for you. I’m so sorry. I never – I didn’t think it would come to this. I’m sorry, Wardo. I love you. I ... I won’t bother you anymore."
"End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –
Mark can’t believe that it’s come to this. He walks slowly, but he keeps his head up, cocking it around curiously, not wanting anyone to become suspicious of him as they pass in their cars. He doesn’t know why he chose to do it here – it was so predictable, something everyone did – but he could see the appeal. He could understand why someone would choose to end their life here. It was certainly beautiful at this time of the night, the city lights twinkling at both sides and the lights of the bridge joining the two clusters of city stars together. Mark couldn’t even see the water far below him; perhaps that was part of the appeal? He could pretend that the surface was only a few meters down when he jumped, and it wouldn’t be half as terrifying.
The wind whipped around him as he approached the centre of the bridge, and he took a deep breath of the winter night and steadied himself. There would be no standing on the edge thinking about it, no looking over into the inky nothingness below. He knew from all of the phones linking directly to suicide hotlines dotted all along the length of the bridge that anyone loitering alone for too long would probably prompt someone to call authorities. After all, this was the Golden Gate Bridge, who knew how many people chose to jump off of it every year? Mark never thought he would be joining them, but as he half-walked and half-drunkenly stumbled, he had never been more convinced that this was the right thing to do.
He would just walk, and then throw himself over the edge without breaking pace. If he were lucky, he would manage it in the split second between headlights sweeping past, and no one would ever see it. He would simply vanish, the way that he knew he should. Wardo would be OK. He hadn’t gotten in touch; he could live without Mark now.
It was now or never, and Mark pushed all doubt to the back of his head as he counted the steps he was taking. Five seemed like a nice choice – he liked the number five and besides, the letter “E” was the fifth letter in the alphabet. It would do, it was a nice, solid number.
On the fourth step his phone vibrated. He didn’t know why he pulled the phone from his pocket, pausing in his purposeful walk, but he would be glad he did. He had a missed call, and a text message. He opened the text message, and dialled the number it told him to call.
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
11:11pm, Monday, 16th November
"Mark. Before ... before you do anything like that, I think you should pause a moment. And I think ... I think you should turn around."
End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –
Mark turns.
Eduardo’s a few metres behind him. Mark’s knees buckle, but he never hits the floor. Eduardo clears the space between them faster than Mark thought anyone could move, and he doesn’t fall to the ground. Eduardo pulls him against him, and Mark holds on with everything he has.
Someone flashes their headlights and blows the horn at them.
Mark laughs.
Eduardo hasn’t ever heard anything so beautiful.
Click.
2:47am, Friday, 8th September.
"Is this thing – oh right, shit, the beep, fuck – Wardo. Look, this is probably – like – yeah – it is a bad idea but I’m really, really drunk. Like, drunk. And ... I miss you. I want to talk to you, but you’re asleep, obviously, because you sleep at normal times and God knows what time it is where you are anyway. I – Wardo, I just – damn it. I can’t – just – urgh."
End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
8:19am, Friday, 8th September
"Eduardo. I was really drunk. I’ll delete your number. I’m sorry; can we forget this ever happened?"
End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –"
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
5:51am, Tuesday, 19th September.
"Wardo, I found your number again, I did delete it, I promise. Look, I’m drunk again, but I – I would still say this if I were sober. I miss you so God damn much. I’m – I – I’m going mad here, Wardo. I’m ... I’m sitting in this bathroom, on the floor, talking to your voicemail because ... for a few seconds I get to hear your voice in my ear again. I try to hang up ... but I always end up talking shit into your voicemail for ages, and I’m already regretting bothering you again but, fuck, Wardo, it hurts so much."
End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
11:19pm, Thursday, 12th November
"It’s raining so hard and it makes me think about when you turned up on the doorstep and I’d forgotten to pick you up at the airport. The rain always makes me think of you now, Wardo."
End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
7:16pm, Monday,16th November
"Someone should take my phone off of me when I’m drunk. I know, it’s too early to be drunk but I – why won’t you even acknowledge that I’m doing this? I mean, I feel like a total cock, because it’s embarrassing and pathetic and desperate but I just can’t help myself, and you – you – you don’t even acknowledge what a mess you make me. You make me ... I don’t even know who I am anymore. Wardo, I’m drunk on a Monday night and it’s all because being drunk is the only time that I can have the courage to hear your voice."
End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
8:41pm, Monday, 16th November
"I’m really fucking drunk. I miss – I love – I miss you."
End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
9:31pm, Monday, 16th November
"I’m sorry."
End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
10:13pm, Monday, 16th November
"I’m still really drunk. Wardo, I hope you can hear me – fucking cars, so many of them at this time – but I guess you’re not listening to these anyway. So here goes nothing. I’m sorry. I miss you, I need you, I love you. I’m happy you can go through life without me. At least I didn’t fuck up everything for you. I’m so sorry. I never – I didn’t think it would come to this. I’m sorry, Wardo. I love you. I ... I won’t bother you anymore."
"End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –
Mark can’t believe that it’s come to this. He walks slowly, but he keeps his head up, cocking it around curiously, not wanting anyone to become suspicious of him as they pass in their cars. He doesn’t know why he chose to do it here – it was so predictable, something everyone did – but he could see the appeal. He could understand why someone would choose to end their life here. It was certainly beautiful at this time of the night, the city lights twinkling at both sides and the lights of the bridge joining the two clusters of city stars together. Mark couldn’t even see the water far below him; perhaps that was part of the appeal? He could pretend that the surface was only a few meters down when he jumped, and it wouldn’t be half as terrifying.
The wind whipped around him as he approached the centre of the bridge, and he took a deep breath of the winter night and steadied himself. There would be no standing on the edge thinking about it, no looking over into the inky nothingness below. He knew from all of the phones linking directly to suicide hotlines dotted all along the length of the bridge that anyone loitering alone for too long would probably prompt someone to call authorities. After all, this was the Golden Gate Bridge, who knew how many people chose to jump off of it every year? Mark never thought he would be joining them, but as he half-walked and half-drunkenly stumbled, he had never been more convinced that this was the right thing to do.
He would just walk, and then throw himself over the edge without breaking pace. If he were lucky, he would manage it in the split second between headlights sweeping past, and no one would ever see it. He would simply vanish, the way that he knew he should. Wardo would be OK. He hadn’t gotten in touch; he could live without Mark now.
It was now or never, and Mark pushed all doubt to the back of his head as he counted the steps he was taking. Five seemed like a nice choice – he liked the number five and besides, the letter “E” was the fifth letter in the alphabet. It would do, it was a nice, solid number.
On the fourth step his phone vibrated. He didn’t know why he pulled the phone from his pocket, pausing in his purposeful walk, but he would be glad he did. He had a missed call, and a text message. He opened the text message, and dialled the number it told him to call.
Voicemail: You have one new message.
Click.
11:11pm, Monday, 16th November
"Mark. Before ... before you do anything like that, I think you should pause a moment. And I think ... I think you should turn around."
End of message. To repeat, press 1. To call back, press 2. To –
Mark turns.
Eduardo’s a few metres behind him. Mark’s knees buckle, but he never hits the floor. Eduardo clears the space between them faster than Mark thought anyone could move, and he doesn’t fall to the ground. Eduardo pulls him against him, and Mark holds on with everything he has.
Someone flashes their headlights and blows the horn at them.
Mark laughs.
Eduardo hasn’t ever heard anything so beautiful.
♠ ♠ ♠
[These boys. My life. They own it.][Written to Streelights by Ludo. I would really recommend listening to it. It's beautiful.]