The Phone Booth

In the small area of downtown Sharon, there’s a phone booth stuffed into the corner of an alley way, waiting to be thrown away but never actually picked up. That’s where I found him again.

-
“Hello?” I said.
“I miss you,” he said, “How are you?”
“I’m… okay, I guess. I miss you too. How are you?”
“I’m good,” he says, “just lonely. I hate being away from you.”
“I hate it too,” I admit.
“Yeah… Hey, I better get back to work before I get in trouble. I love you, yeah?”
“Yeah. I love you too,” I said.
“I’ll see you when I get home,” he said.
-
“Hello?” I said.
“I miss you,” he said, “How are you?”
“A little better,” I said, “Much better than I was a month ago. I miss you, too. How are you?”
“Great,” he said, “I think I might be getting a promotion soon. I’ll be able to support you and our daughter better, just like I promised.”
“Just like you promised,” I echoed softly, “I have to go.”
“Are you okay?” he asked with concern.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“You sound like you’re going to cry,” he countered.
“I’m fine,” I repeated harshly.
“Okay… well, bye. I love you.”
“I love you too,” I said.
“I’ll see you when I get home.”
-
“Hello?” I said.
“I miss you,” he said, “How are you?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered.
“Hard day?” he asked.
“I guess.”
“You’ll get a handle on this depression thing one day, I promise,” he said.
“Maybe,” I said quietly, “but that day is not today. I think I’m just going to go home and lie down for the rest of the day.”
“Okay, baby,” he said soothingly, “I hope you feel better tomorrow. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“I’ll see you when I get home.”
-
“Hello?”
“I miss you. How are you?”
“I’m great, actually. Charlotte sat up on her own today,” I said.
“Oh my God!” he said in wonder, “That’s great! Wow. Our little girl sat up on her own. Oh my God. I really wish I could’ve been there to see it.”
“Yeah,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut, “I wish you could’ve been there too.”
“Are you okay? Please don’t cry. I’ll be there the next she does it, yeah?” he said.
“That’s just it,” I sobbed, “no, you won’t. You won’t be there, you never are!”
“Look, baby, I know works been keeping from home a lot lately, but I’m not going to completely miss Charlotte’s life.”
“You really have yourself convinced, don’t you?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You’re dead, Jack; stop trying to tell me otherwise.”
“What? Alex, don’t talk like that; it’s not funny.”
“I’m not trying to be funny!” I yell, “you’ve been dead since two months after we adopted Charlotte.”
“Alex-“ he said in a warning tone.
“No!” I cut him off, “No, Jack, listen to me. I made you come home from your business trip in L.A. because Charlotte was coughing. God, Jack, she just coughed and coughed and I didn’t know what to do.”
“Alex, stop,” he said with a wavering voice.
“I made you come home because I was scared. I called you when you were half-way home.”
“Alex, please,” he begged.
“Charlotte died that night, Jack. You were distracted from the road by my crying, and your own. You hit another car and died on impact. You and Charlotte died, and I’ve been pretending that you’re both alive.”
“Alex, stop, please, please,” he cried.
“No, Jack, you need to hear this, and I need to accept it. You and Charlotte are dead. I’ve been pretending that she’s alive and well for your sake, but it’s killing me. I can’t keep going home to an empty apartment after hours of pretending. It’s not healthy.”
“Am… Alex, am I real?” he asked.
“Yeah, Jack, I think you are. You have to cross over, baby, you can’t keep lingering here. You have to move on.”
“… I’m scared, Alex. I don’t want to leave this phone booth,” he whispered, sounding broken and disillusioned.
“Do it for me. Do it because you love me. Do it because Charlotte’s over there, waiting for you, and I need you to be waiting for me when it’s my time. I love you, Jack.”
“I love you too, Alex,” he said softly.
“I’ll see you when I get home,” I said.