Voicemail

"Hi. You've reached Chloe. I can't take your call right now but please leave a message after the beep."

Beep.

I push the 'end call' button, dial her number in again. I have it saved in my contacts list still but I know it by heart; typing it all out somehow makes it feel more real. I have the satisfaction of living in that brief period of anticipation - I find myself hoping she will answer, even though I know she can't.

"Hi. You've reached Chloe - "

I cut it off. Her voice sounds bright, perhaps a little too much, and rehearsed, robotic - not her natural tone at all. I miss the warmth of it, the way her pitch used to go higher the longer she spoke. It's almost as if I'm listening to a stranger but I shake the thought. It isn't perfect, not by a long shot but it's all I have left of her. I will endure it heartily.

I dial, listen, end call.

I repeat.

I repeat.

I repeat.

My mind is muddled. I try to picture her face and only catch snatches of her features instead; a highlight in her hair, the glimmer of blue from her eyes - what shade of blue was it though? Light? Dark? Perhaps it was grey? It's hard to realise that I am already forgetting. I wish I could tell her how sorry I am for that.

The next time I call, something changes. I leave a reply to the automatic demand, the strain in my voice a stark contrast to the monotony in hers.

At first, I feel foolish. I stumble over my words, wanting to say everything but managing to say nothing. How can you fit all those words into such a small moment? I want her to hear the longing in my voice but it doesn't show the first time; I'm awkward and grasping for the right things to tell her. They don't come easily.

"...leave a message after the beep."

Beep.

"Um - hey, hi. It's me. Uh - I..." End call.

Then, I become desperate.

Beep.

"Hi. Please, please just let me know if you're okay. Please, a sign - anything. Just let me know, it's all I want." End call.

Now, I am angry. I can't stop dialing that number, hearing that false voice.

Beep.

"JUST GIVE ME A SIGN! YOU FUCKING BITCH, IT'S THE LEAST YOU COULD DO FOR ME AFTER LEAVING ME HERE! I'M FUCKING ALONE!" End call.

Repentant.

Beep.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it, please don't be mad at me. I'm sorry, I love you. Please." End call.

Reminiscent.

"You remember when you were recording the voicemail message? You couldn't settle on one thing, you just went with what you thought people wanted to hear - what they were supposed to hear. You should have gone with the other one. I liked it better. It was you."

I dial again and listen. The message is generic, when it was exactly the last thing she ever was. She was different, peculiar, vivacious, intractable. She was perfect.

I leave her a message, the last one. The one she didn't use because I want it to be there, on her phone, even if it isn't her voice that is saying it. I remember every word with clarity.

"Hi. You've reached Chloe. I can't take your call right now but please leave a message after the beep."

Beep.

"I can't take your call but leave a message. There's gonna be a beep coming and then you'll have to pounce or else you'll miss it. Can you feel that? It's coming. Get ready - I mean it! This is your one shot. Don't blow it. Here it comes! - "

Beep.