Page 47 of Palingenesis

My phone is also missing, discarded somewhere among the articles of my wardrobe instead of on the charger next to my hearing aids—fuck.

Those didn’t make it to the charger either.

Cursing again, I yank on a pair of shorts and get my hearing aids into the case before I start crawling around on the floor in search of my phone. It’s not until I look under the bed that I find it laying against the wall, and I’m half under the bed by the time I reach it.

Even when I do, I sit back on the mattress and stare at it with a crushing realization.

The time illuminates back at me, mocking me.

It’s 3 am. Who the fuck am I gonna call?

My thoughts scream Ghostbusters but my heart weeps in reality.

If it was three in the afternoon, I still don’t know who I’d reach out to. And what would I even say? That I’m having a mental breakdown? A complete lapse in my faculties?

That I had a fucking nightmare that made me come?

My so-called friends haven’t bothered to speak to me since I left, not that they would have ever believed me. My estranged family has no idea that I even left the state. And now my partner is just… gone… yet I can’t find it in me to care that he is.

The blackened screen blurs in my grip.

I am completely alone.

Sought after by some fucked up town legend my imagination has made up.

No one would believe me anyway.

Just as there’s no one here to look sidelong at me as a manic laugh tumbles out of me, squeezing tears out along with it.

I’m not certain how long I stay like that, alternating between laughing and crying, but when the phone in my palm vibrates, I nearly throw the thing across the room.

But the name flashing on the screen urges my shaking fingers to answer it.

A video call opens, my side dark as shit, and I hurry to wipe my face as best as I can before sliding into frame.

Though the caller is already speaking judging by the captions that appear faster than I’m prepared to read.

“Hold,” I manage to say, though it get picked up as old, and I scroll to read the text.

‘Hey, sorry this is Morgan on Avery‘s phone. I think I didn’t think you’d answer a random number if you could and I promised him I check on you in the morning. I rushed. You rushed out really fast yesterday and when I told him he almost Old went after you. But I didn’t get to fit. Oh shit sorry you said hold. Oh wait.’

Rolling my eyes at the absolutely shit attempt captions do at their job, I reach over and flick on the bedside lamp, then show the blinking red light of my hearing aids.

When I turn the camera to show my face, I look just as bad as I feel.

Morgan’s kind, brown eyes squint and for a moment, I can easily see why Avery fell in love with him.

He’s hot. Thick in all the way that matter and sports a beard he clearly takes time to care for. Though it’s the eyes that really tell the truth.

But then he opens his mouth and starts talking faster than the closed captions can keep up with. It just sits there with a hyphen as his mouth moves, mustache making it impossible for me to read his lips.

I must huff out loud enough for it to be picked up because his brows dip and he moves the phone closer to his face.

Holding up a finger, I end the call and drop my location to him. If he wants to check on me, he can just come over. It would be so much easier than reading the garbage speech to text and if I’m lucky, he’ll bring Avery with him to ease things along.

Because while I don’t expect accommodations, it is nice to not have to struggle.

Life is fucking hard enough without being the only hard of hearing, or deaf, person in most situations. Let alone being the only one in the room and no one bothering to type up something or sign the words when my devices die.