the phone rang just as he opened the bottle of beer he got from the freezer. it rarely rings nowadays, even if he was at home, yet he pretended not to pay attention and gulped down on the ice-cold beverage. the temparature of the beer made it easier for him to drink and by the time he put down the bottle, it was almost half-empty and the phone was on it's fourth ring. he then calmly picked up the bottle and walked to the living room towards the telephone.
"hello?" he answered. he was greeted by silence. he repeated himself, this time with his tone slightly raised. still no answer. he then shrugged his shoulders and placed the receiver down. he sat down on the sofa, with his feet on top of the table, and his head resting comfortably on the back cushion. 'twas 3:30AM and being used to working at night, he couldn't sleep. he thought of surfing the net, but since he's using the computer everyday at work, it made him grew a little tired of it. he also thought of going out, but "where would i go?" he asked himself. so he just settled down for a bottle of beer and his ass on the sofa. the phone rang again. this time, he answered it immediately.
sounds of static together with a faint, whimphering female voice was on the other end of the line as she struggled to say "hello." he didn't respond back. somehow the voice was familiar. yet he couldn't figure out who it was. he stayed silent as he tried to looked back on his past to find out who it is. "hello?" the female voice came on again, in between intermittent sounds of radio-like static. he tried to answer, but something held him back and just kept silent. he then heard sounds of soft sobbing as he became puzzled as to why someone would call at that hour. "i know you're there," the voice continued. "and i know you're just listening." "who are you?" he then asked as static feeds kept coming across the line with him struggling to hear what the female voice had to say. "hello?" she said again, this time sobs can be clearly heard in between bouts of static interfering with the line. "who's this?" he finally asked. he was answered by a gust of interference, like the person he was talking to was using a walkie-talkie. as it slowly died down, she then uttered this message:
"i know you can hear me, so i'll just say what i have to say. you have done things for me which i have taken for granted. and for that, i'm sorry. you were true to what you felt, true to what you wanted with me–with us, yet i turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to something special, someone special such as you. i wish i could go back and change what was done, and maybe, no, for sure, things would've been better for the both of us. things have become too complicated now for me to even consider the thought of being with you, yet i know, with all your kindness and grace, you would understand like you always did with me and my attitude. i'm sorry for taking your precious time, time i know you could've spent with someone who would feel the same way for you and not… ok, i'll admit it, 'use' what you felt for me in order to take advantage and get what i wanted. i'm sorry for leading you on, yet somewhere along the way, i felt the same way you did, only that, as i've said, things back then were the way they were, and if there was some thing i could've done something about it, i would've. yet the times i've spent with you were one of the things i won't ever forget. and with that, i'm telling, not asking you, to go on. i know you still have feelings for me in one way or the other, but with the way i have treated you, i myself am ashamed to even look at you. i'll always miss the way you held my hand, how you looked at me, the way you made me laugh and assured me when i was down, and just the times when we were together. thank you for coming into my life and i really wish things were different. you'll always be cherished wherever i go, and i hope you'll feel the same way too. again, i'm so sorry…. good… goodbye…."
more static was heard, then a solitary click, and then the familiar sound of silence prevailed again. a tear ran down his cheek as he stood, with the phone's receiver still pressed upon his ear, trying to make sense of who was that woman, and what just happened….
Markie's Journal 