Assuming it was Becka, I dialled my voicemail service, sitting down on the edge of the bed as I listened to the options.
Press 3 to listen to new messages.
There was a rustle on the line, and then–
"Kaiya."
My heart stopped.
"I should not have called, I know. But… it’s Christmas. Do you remember?"
I slid to the floor, a parody of the last time I’d heard his voice on a phone call.
Even through the thundering rush of my pulse, I recognised the lilt his voice took on when he’d had too much to drink, and even through it all, even after everything, I hoped he’d been drinking because he had been celebrating. Not because he’d needed to numb his feelings.
"I was so happy that day. I was so happy every day, I think. I wanted to thank you for that, but I never did. I never did so many things. I regret so much. Are you happy? I want you to be happy. I only ever wanted your happiness."
"I see you’re doing so well. I see your name everywhere, I think. Your articles. I knew you would do it one day,jagiya."
I slapped a hand over my mouth just in time to shove the sudden sob back inside.
"I always knew you’d find something for yourself. I hope you know… I hope."
He sighed, and it was so heavy that it rushed down the line like a gust of wind.
"It does not matter. Merry Christmas, Kaiya Thompson. I…" Another sigh. "Be well."
End of message. To replay message, press 5.
I pulled the phone away from my ear, looking at the screen. I had a missed call at 8:15 pm. Assuming he was in Korea, that would have been incredibly early in the morning. I only debated for half a second before I navigated to his number. I’d debated so many times whether or not to delete it, but I never had.
I pressed dial and brought the phone back to my ear. It took a few moments to connect, and then an automatic voice reeled off a script in Korean, before repeating it in English. In either language, I understood well enough.
Sorry. The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service. Please check the number, and dial again.’
There was a stone in my throat when I looked down at the screen, confirming I hadn’t made a mistake. In a sudden bout of frenzy, I opened KakaoTalk and looked for his profile. His profile picture was blank, but I was able to find his contact. I tried again. The call wouldn’t connect.
He’d disconnected his number.
No, it must have beeen a mistake, because how had he phoned me?
My fingers flew as I went into my call log, looking for the missed call.
Unknown Number
No.
I reconnected to my voicemail service, going through the menu as quickly as I could, but skipped his message, I selected the option to play the details instead.
Number withheld
“Goddamnit!”
I dropped my head into my hands, muffling the wail that forced its way past my teeth.
After all these weeks of silence, it wasn’t fair! I was just starting to do okay. Every day I got up, and I promised myself that I wouldn’t think of him, and sometimes I even made it through breakfast. I’d been trying so hard.
It had been weeks of pretending, and with one missed call I was right back there. Sitting on my bedroom floor, staring at my phone.
