My new phone is a pay-and-go model. It’s not fancy by any means. It serves its purpose and I guess that’s what counts. Only, sometimes, it taunts me, like it’s doing now. I’ve been clutching the phone for the better part of an hour, repeatedly typing a certain number I know by heart, only to delete it each time my finger even contemplates hitting send.
Some days are harder than others. Today is a really, really tough day. It’s my birthday (not that I’ve admitted it to anyone, though—Will and Cameron think it’s still another month away), and I miss Jonah so much that I’d give every last cent I have to hear his voice. Magically, it’d be easy, really. I could make myself a little machine and see him. Or hear him. Even easier, I could simply call and hang up, wrong number-like. Or disguise my voice and then hang up. He’d never be able to trace me to a random phone call from Alaska, because he has no idea I’d ever wanted to come here. It’d be nothing more than a three second call to him.
There’s a strong fear that if I see him, though, let alone hear his voice, all my resolves would crumble and I’d be once more begging for forgiveness. And where would that get me? Us? For all I know, he’s doing great nowadays. Every time I turn on the news, I search him out. Is that protest march in Washington due to him? That rebellion in Tibet? The fundraising efforts going around to help rebuild the East Coast, so recently devastated by a storm? The community rallying around the little girl with a bucket list and less than a year to live? Pride swells in my chest, as bittersweet as it is, whenever I visualize him out there doing his job and doing it well.
I think about Kellan, too—gods, everyday. But in these last five months I’ve noticed something. I love Kellan. I miss him so much I physically ache . . . but it’s nothing compared to the withdrawal Jonah’s absence is putting me through. I don’t dream about Kellan the way I do with his brother, don’t wake up with his name on my lips and tears in my eyes because the crushing agony of his absence in my life overwhelms me.
I don’t get it. I really don’t. I share Connections to both of them. Love both of them desperately. Is it because Jonah and I shared dreams for so many years? Or were living together before I left? Is it because I’d gotten used to not having Kellan in my life?
But I tore my life apart over Kellan, didn’t I? Destroyed everything I had with Jonah? And yet, for five months now, I’ve drowned in just how hard it’s been to let Jonah go.
Minutes later, functioning on autopilot, I’m on a bus across town, until, nearly an hour later, I find myself on the outskirts of Anchorage. It takes another hour before I locate a payphone. Thanks to cell phones, they’re hard to find in the wild. I’m an idiot, because this is the stupidest, riskiest thing I could possibly do, but I keep telling myself it’ll be just this one call. I just need to hear him say one thing. Just hello. It’ll be enough to help me get through the coming months. Maybe it’ll recharge me and my resolves rather than weaken me—because I’ll know I did the right thing if he sounds happy, that everything I’ve done and gone through will be worth it.
My hands tremble when I pick up the receiver. I force myself to take a breath before I clean the black plastic with an alcohol wipe. I drop my coins twice before I get them into the phone. My heart jackhammers in my chest, but, as nervous as I am, I’m bursting with excitement, too.
One word. I’ll take just one word. He’ll say hello, maybe once, at the most twice, and then he’ll hang up. I won’t say anything in return. Better yet, if I’m lucky, I’ll get his voice mail. I’ll get a whole bunch of words then.
Each button is pressed slowly. The call will go fast; it needs to tide me over for months. The ringing in my ear competes with the thundering in my chest. His phone is ringing. Gods, I’m going to pass out. My breathing, my heart—everything is fast and hard right now. I’ve got to get myself under control. Can’t have him think I’m some deep breathing stalker or anything. Can’t raise any of his flags.
Two rings.
Three.
“Hello?”
The butterflies in my chest break free. My ribs open up, my skin parts, and that muscle in my chest flies right on out. Jonah! Jonah’s answered and he’s said hello! He sounds . . . well, not happy, but tired. Which could be work or—
Elation morphs into searing pain. I miss him. I ache for him so much right now that it takes me physically biting my tongue until it bleeds so I don’t answer him back.
If I could, I’d say: I love you I’m sorry I miss you I want you I made a mistake I wish you nothing but happiness are you happy please tell me you’re happy that everything I’ve put us through is worth it you deserve so much more than a broken girl like me are you happy Jonah do you miss me have you moved on is your life good please tell me that this has all been worth it please please please—
“Hello?”
Everything around me hazes. I can’t see my surroundings. Why is it I always break down in payphone booths?
A dial tone fills my ear.
“Zoe! What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”