Lost In Rewind (Audio Fools #3) (18 page)

He’s not going to call.
My brain keeps taunting my heart, proving that it’s always right, while my silly heart is always wrong.

I go back to a routine I’ve called my life for the past five years. I go through the motions, I make conversation, I pretend to be busy though I spend most of the day hiding like a leper in the kitchen, because who am I kidding? I’m not me anymore. As the day progresses, I grow agitated and bitter, snapping at the busboys for no reason.
Why do people make promises if they have no intentions of honoring them?

Lauren has already asked me twice today if I feel sick because I look like shit. If I look even half as bad as I feel, I must look like death. I try to recall Jeff’s exact words. Did he say he would call me today or tomorrow? Maybe I typed in the wrong number into his phone by accident. Why didn’t I take his number? Thank God I don’t have his number or I’d be in even deeper shit. At least the choice to call or not to call is all his.

The day continues to drag on painfully and I can’t wait to close the bar and go upstairs, take a long hot shower before I crash into bed—the bed that, without a doubt, still smells of him and me.

It’s way past midnight when I enter my empty apartment. I look around my couch-less living room and smile the moment I notice my instruments. When life takes things away, you learn to love things that cannot be taken from you. My music is everything. It has always consistently been there for me, good or bad, and it stays with me. It’s a part of me.

My maman had a thing for mushy eighties songs. She hated French music and her car was littered with cassette tapes that reminded her of her youth. She would only speak to me in English, and I was only allowed to watch American cartoons and listen to English songs, which probably explains why I speak English without an accent—it was, after all, my first language. People are usually shocked when I tell them I’m French and not American. I remove my locket to look at my favorite tiny reminder of the person I love most in the world. She was perfect, too perfect, and the water took her from me. In a moment of weakness, my tears roll down my cheeks as I see through blurred tear-filled eyes that my phone is flashing with a text. I look at my watch and it’s one thirty in the morning. I know it’s him—who else would dare text me in the middle of the night.

-I thought of nothing but you for the last 24hrs. I want every hour to be Kali o’clock-

I smile as I let out a loud cry of relief. I’m still sobbing, but his words have just calmed my doubting mind, allowing hope to bloom again. My fingers shake as I attempt to type back a reply.

-I didn’t think I would ever hear from you again-

It’s the truth and I’m not embarrassed for him to know that I have very little faith in him.

-My son has a nasty cold. I had to take him to the doctor and spend most of the day begging him to take medication. I wanted to call you the second I drove away, but I’m also trying to give you some space and a chance to change your mind about talking to me. I still don’t understand what happened between us-

I’m not a big texter, since I don’t have too many people I speak to on a daily basis. I usually want to hear someone’s voice, like when I miss my papa and some of my friends back in Cassis. Therefore, I’m a bit surprised at how easy it is to just communicate with him through text. I can picture his face and his smile as if he’s actually saying those things to my face. I think I can probably type anything as opposed to having the nerve to say it out loud.

-Are we going to talk only through texting?-

I need to hear his voice, make sure it wasn’t all a dream.

-No, I’ll call you in the morning. I’ve been dying to hear your voice. I’d call you now but I have Jacob sleeping in my bed tonight-

I like the image of him nursing his child back to health. I actually like him a little more than I did before he texted me.

-I hope Jacob feels better. Goodnight, Jeff-

I’m about to put my phone away when I hear another message coming in. I look at the screen to see that he sent me a picture. It’s a dark photo, obviously taken at night, of me, with his hand stroking my cheek while I sleep.

-This picture makes me smile. You make me smile. I haven’t had anything to smile about in a very long time-

I beam as I read over his message.
I wish I could hear his voice.
I put my phone away and finally give my overworked, beaten mind a chance to shut down. Kali o’clock can’t come fast enough.

I
wake up with a smile that quickly morphs into a frown, once I glace over at my watch and see that it’s half past nine.
He didn’t call?
I find my phone under my pillow and it’s completely dead. I can’t believe I forgot to charge it! I jump out of bed and plug the damn thing in and wait impatiently for it to spring to life.
Fuck.
He must’ve called and got my message. He probably thinks I don’t want to speak to him.
Fuck.
My retched phone finally illuminates back to life but shows zero missed calls, zero messages, and zero texts.

Is this really happening, again?

“
If You Were Here
”
by Thompson Twins

I
’m disoriented when I see a nurse hovering over me. It takes me a few minutes to realize I’m at the hospital. I blink away the grogginess and sit up, only to have the whole room spin out of control, forcing me to lie back down again.

“Stay down, Mr. Rossi.”

The familiar voice of my favorite nurse helps me recall my location and the reason for my visit. I’m giving blood, like I have every fifty-six days for the last six months.

“They don’t want you donating blood as often as you do. It’s not good for anybody if you blackout on us.”

I nod my head. I don’t care what the doctors think anyway. I will give blood as long as I’m alive and I have blood to give. I close my eyes as I try to take deep, long breaths and calm the lightheadedness.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Nurse Lily questions me.

“Because it’s my duty.” An ache squeezes me from inside as I open my eyes to see the elderly nurse shaking her head at me.

“You’re a good man, Mr. Rossi. Take care of yourself. She doesn’t need your blood.” She pats my cheek while directing my face with a bit of force toward a glass of orange juice by my cot and then leaves.

I gulp down the sweet beverage and try to sit up again. This time the room stays still. I fish my wristwatch from my pants’ pocket and almost pass out again when I see the time. It’s fucking ten o’clock in the morning! I was supposed to call Kali at eight. The acidic drink burns my throat as it comes up, and my lightheadedness is replaced with nausea. I can’t get anything right. I ruin everything I come in contact with, and without a doubt, this poor girl thinks I’m playing games with her head. I find my phone in my back pocket and call Kali at once. It rings and rings and rings and rings. I hang up and call again, still no answer.
Shit.
I type out a message reading it twenty times before I hit send. I hold my breath and wait for her response—but nothing.

I read over my text again and again.

-Kali, I’m sorry I didn’t call. Something out of my control came up. Please pick up and let me explain-

I imagine how disappointed she must feel if she won’t answer or text me back. I may have to go and explain to her in person that I’m an idiot.
I usually don’t faint from giving blood.
I have bad thoughts coming and leaving my mind at a steady rate as I conclude that this is fate stopping me from talking to her.

My phone vibrates in my hand with her sad selfie appearing on the screen. Elation is an understatement. I exhale in relief and take in a deep breath through my nose and answer.

I say, “I’m sorry,” before I even say hello and begin rambling off a defense. “I fainted this morning when I was giving blood. I slept like shit and haven’t been eating well for months and I must’ve blacked out. That’s the only reason I didn’t call you. I swear.” I wait and listen.

“Why were you giving blood?”

I smile and close my eyes upon hearing her familiar voice with her peculiar sweet accent, thankful as hell that she’s still talking to me.

“I’ve been giving blood regularly every fifty-six days for the last six months. I promise to tell you all about it.” I collect my things and walk out of the hospital. “Is this a good time for us to talk?” She makes a sound that I accept to mean that it’s as good a time as any. Fresh air coupled with her on the other line is a gift. Across the street I sit at the first empty bench I spy and get ready to spend time talking with a woman that hasn’t escaped my thoughts in days. I still feel a little woozy, but there’s no way I’m hanging up with her.

“Talk, we’ve danced long enough. Now you need to talk to me.” She sounds defensive and who can blame her? I need to win her trust and show her that us talking is important to me. She can’t think this is some kind of mind-fuck. I get comfortable and begin like the lawyer that I am, painting a picture for my jury of one. I’ve won hundreds of cases in my career but assuring Kali doesn’t despise me at the end of my life story narration somehow feels more significant.

“Okay, but before we start, I’d like to explain to you that you’re about to hear the first part of my story. The part of my story that everyone thought they knew. It’s the good, simple part.” I close my eyes and shut off the noise of New York City around me as I begin to describe to Kali how a boy once accidently fell in love with his best friend.

“When I was twenty-one years old, I realized that what I had always perceived as a horrible genetic mutation was actually my best asset. It attracted a special girl, so I ran with it. I’d never been a ladies man, never popular, average on all accounts—until I met Jacqueline Boyd. We were accidently matched up as roommates in our junior year of the pre-law undergraduate program at Brown. When I walked into my new dorm room and found my roommate’s bed made up with pink girly sheets and motivational posters covering the walls, I almost pissed myself. It turned out to be a glorious computer glitch where they accidently registered Jacqueline as Jack Boyd—who was her father and happened to be an alumnus of Brown University.

“I had transferred to Brown that year in the hopes of having a better chance at getting admitted to their law school. I’d only had one girlfriend, if you can even call her that, back home in Florida, and believe me, I wasn’t getting anywhere close to the action every college kid dreams of. This girl—my new roommate—was freaking gorgeous. She was everything someone like me never stood a chance with. When you looked at her, you knew she came from a long line of pedigree. Everything about her screamed refined class and sophistication. She was beyond my league—she was in a different stratosphere. But all my initial assessments couldn’t be further from the truth. Yes, she was wealthy and came from a long line of respected attorneys, but she chose to live like a regular college girl. She was down to Earth, humble on all accounts, and never once made me feel like the loser I was.” I hear Kali stifle a laugh on the other end of the line. I smile to myself recalling how Jacky and I first met.