Dead Line

I got halfway through telling him about the job.

I was explaining the part where

I signed the contract, where I finally got

the thing I've wanted, and the call just

stopped.

No goodbye. No sound. Just

the sudden erasure of his breathing,

the silence that means you're alone,

that the person on the other end

has disappeared.

I called back.

Straight to voicemail.

His voice saying "Leave a message"

like an instruction I couldn't follow.

I didn't leave a message.

I tried again.

For two hours I reached

into the dead space

between my phone and wherever he is,

waiting for him to materialize,

to pick up, to answer.

In my head, I kept finishing the sentence.

The one I didn't get to say.

I told the silence first.

Told it about the job, about being here,

about the thing I've been waiting for.

The silence listened better than he could.

Or it would have, if he'd been there.

If the call hadn't dropped

at exactly the wrong moment.

Now I have

this half-told story.

This incomplete truth.

This knowledge that he doesn't know yet.

I try once more.

Still nothing.

I tell my phone the rest.

The words go into the dark.