8 January 2007

I call David on my new cell phone. I haven’t even lasted a month.

I get his voicemail and as I listen to his outgoing recording, I wrestle with whether I should even leave him a message. But when the beep sounds, I start talking quickly, guility.

“Hi, it’s me. I have a new cell phone number and just figured you should know. It’s xxx-xxx-8557. I wanted to call and wish you a happy new year. Hope you’re well. Bye.”

Pressing the End button on my cell, I squeeze my eyes shut. I hate myself for this.

To my shock, he calls me back after work.

“Wanna get together tomorrow night?” he asks, but his voice sounds hollow and dull. Maybe he’s just having a bad day.

“Of course!” I answer eagerly.

“I’ll call you when I’m getting ready to finish work, okay?”

“Sounds good.” My voice drops as if I’m ashamed of what I’m about to admit. “I really…I really miss you, David.”

“I miss you, too.”

We hang up and I clutch my phone to my chest, biting my lip.

The next day arrives and my cell phone is ominously silent. My agitation builds with every hour that passes without a call from him. What is he doing to me? I shriek inwardly. Why is he doing this to me?

By dinnertime, I still haven’t heard from him, and I feel beaten down and exhausted by disappointment. I call his cell and get an automated voice telling me that the phone number is currently unavailable.

This is the price I pay for my stupidity. This is my punishment for my indiscretions. It must be.

Six weeks pass with no word from him. His cell phone number is still functioning, and I leave him voicemail messages every so often; some threatening, some wheedling, some downright angry. All are met with no response. I begin reading the online obituaries in the local paper every morning, praying that he’s not dead. I check the local magisterial court dockets every day to see if he’s been arrested. And all along, I’m keeping up the front at home, with friends, at work, as if life is wonderful and I am without a care in the world. Every night, I sink into bed and squeeze my eyes shut, whispering to myself, “David, I wish you peace,” over and over again until I drift into a shallow, restless sleep.

Things must be bad if he is self-isolating like this. From past experience, I realize that this has nothing to do with me. Or rather, he’s not ignoring me because he doesn’t care about me; more likely he’s ignoring me because he loves me. He’s trying to protect me from his problems. Anyone else who treated me this way would automatically be written off by me forever; but this is David. This is what he does. My anger slowly dries up, replaced by a deep and gnawing concern.

Finally, I decide to do some investigating. I call his mother’s house and am alarmed when I hear a recording that the number has been disconnected. Something must really be up if she's disconnected her phone.

I go back to the restaurant where Lynda still works. She was finally promoted to management a few years back, and she is standing at the hostess station in the foyer when I enter. Her face lights up when she recognizes me.

“Lori!” she exclaims heartily. “How are you, sweetie?”

I smile quickly. “I’m good, thanks...how are you?”

“Fine, sweetie.” She raises her eyebrows and looks at me expectantly.

“I’m, uh, flying solo tonight, so I’d like a table just for me.”

“Just for one?” she echoes.

I nod. “Yes, please.”

She grabs a menu and leads me over to a booth in the middle of the restaurant, giving my arm a squeeze before walking away.

I order my pizza and eat in silence. Lynda hustles past my table several times, glancing surreptitiously at me.

After I finish eating, I motion her over to my booth. “Would you mind giving me your new phone number? If you don’t want to, I understand…but I tried to call you yesterday and the number was disconnected.”

“Oh sure, sweetie! I’m sorry.” She scrawls her new number on a piece of scrap paper and hands it to me. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” I fold the paper and slide it into my purse. “So how’s David?”

“Okay, I guess,” she says, avoiding my eyes. She looks tired.

I purse my lips and shake my head. “I worry about him.”

The right side of her mouth curls into a sad smile. “Me, too.”

“I know you do.”

An awkward moment passes between us. “Well, I guess I’ll get going,” I say. “Please tell him I was asking for him.”

“I will, sweetie. And you look wonderful. You look really, really great. Take care of yourself.”

I give her a brief hug and walk out to my car.

The next morning I call her.

“Lori! What’s up?”

I sigh. “You tell me. What is going on with David?”

Lynda’s voice drops. “He needs to get away from that girl. I keep telling him but he won’t. He knows he should, too, but he keeps going back to her.”

“I know…he told me that a while back. She sounds very…emotionally unstable. He told me she’s crazy. She just sounds like bad news,” I say.

“She is bad news. And so are her kids. They’re just terrible!”

“Yeah, I heard. And I’ve been trying and trying to get a hold of him for the past month but he just doesn’t return my calls. Is he still living with her, or is he with you now? I can’t keep track.”

“He’s still living with her,” she sighs. “He says he can’t move back here with me because he can’t live with my mother. They don’t get along.”

“I don’t get it,” I say.

“Well, he’s depressed…very, very depressed. Really down. I keep telling him to get rid of her and things will get better for him, but he doesn’t. Keep calling him,” she tells me.

“I figured he was depressed. I’ve been leaving him messages…even sending letters and funny cards to your house for him, just trying to cheer him up a little bit.” I pause, trying to decide if I should share my suspicions with her. “I think they do drugs together, Lynda. I hate to say it, but I can’t think of any other reason why he’d stick around her this long otherwise. He’s told me he can’t stand her. He’s been miserable, he told me so. He said that she does drugs, and that—“

“Listen, I gotta run, sweetie…I gotta go to work,” she interrupts me frantically.

“Oh, okay…” I reply, puzzled and annoyed.

“Just keep calling…keep calling, please!” she urges me before hanging up.