-Sadie
I pick up the outdated cell phone and peel away the bubble wrap. I look it over. The screen has some scratches on it. There’s a ding or two around the edges. Signs that it did belong to a man at some point. I hold down the power button and wait for Jake’s phone to power up. The welcome screen comes up, displaying the symbol of the cell phone maker. A little wheel spins and says “searching.” The phone chimes once and then a picture of Sadie fills the small screen. God, she’s beautiful. Her smile is bright and her eyes are so alive. It only makes my love for the woman that I never should’ve fallen for grow. Seeing her like this makes me want to be the one who has lit up her smile. Her brown eyes are full of that magic that makes a man willing to give her the earth, moon, and stars. I want to put that look in her eyes and that smile on her face. I want to give her the moon.
My eyes focus on the little service symbol. She never had Jake’s cell phone disconnected. I take in a deep breath and sigh at just another thing that Sadie did to hang on to him. It makes my stomach turn and my chest ache. I press the little phone symbol and then the voicemail symbol. Bringing the phone to my ear, I wait for it to connect.
“Please enter your voicemail box password followed by the pound sign.”
With one more glance at the note, I punch the password into the phone.
“You have no new messages. To listen to saved messages, please press one.”
I shake my head and press one not knowing what the hell I’m supposed to do here.
“March, 29, 2011.” Soft crying fills the line and my entire fucking body tenses.
Sadie.
I run my hands through my hair as I listen to soft whimpers on the line. She isn’t saying anything just weak little sobs. “Fuck,” I groan, feeling like someone has just punched me in the gut. The message ends and the robotic voice instructs me to press seven to go to the next message. The time stamp greeting goes on to give the date for the next voicemail.
“April 4, 2011.”
“Jake. Jake, please get better. Please don’t give up. Don’t leave me. I-I can’t…” she trails off tearfully and the message ends.
I press seven.
“April 19, 2011.”
“Jake. Jake please wake up. Please. I don’t want to believe them. You have to show them all that they’re wrong. I know you’re in there. I know you can still hear me. Please, Jake.”
Seven.
“April 27, 2011.”
“Jake!” A guttural groan comes from the phone and I flinch at how awful it sounds. “Jake! I wasn’t ready. I’m not ready. I’m not ready!” More animalistic groaning and gasping comes down the line before it clicks off and I jab my finger at the phone to go to the next message.
Seven.
“May 11, 2011.”
“No one understands. I’m so lonely. I miss you. Can you hear me?” Sadie whispers between hiccups.
Seven.
“June 18, 2011.”
“Happy birthday. I love you.” She hangs up and I’m beginning to understand that this must have been her own form or therapy. It has been her way to vent and a way to hear his voice when she needed it most.
Seven.
I press the number with shaky fingers, both nervous and anxious to hear all of the messages.
“July 4, 2011.”
More soft crying, followed by garbled words, then the phone clicks off.
Seven.
“August 12, 2011.”
“I’m so alone. I hate everyone. Sometimes I think I can feel you around me. Am I crazy?” Her monotone voice lacks emotion and I can picture a dazed look on her face when she made the call. It makes me grimace.
Seven.
“September 19, 2011.”
“Group therapy is a fucking joke. I hate them. All of them. I just want to punch someone.”
Seven.
“October 2, 2011.”
“The holidays are coming. I’m scared to face them alone. I wish you could come back to me, Jake.”
Seven.
“March 17, 2012.”
“We have a nephew. Jackson was born this morning. He’s beautiful. I left after holding him for just a minute or two because it hurt. It’s not fair. I can’t blame Mom and Jenna for being pissed at me. I’m pissed at me too.”
Seven.
I go through three more messages with just the sound of Sadie crying, intermingled with emotional sighs, weepy pleas for the impossible, and hissed angry words directed at everyone. I’m ready to end the call. I can’t hear her cry anymore. It makes me want to go find her and kiss it all away. It makes me want to go back in time and soothe her. It makes me want to give back what was taken from Jacob Parker.
“March 21, 2013.”
“I’m meeting a few of the transplant recipients. Why can’t I be glad that you saved someone’s life?”
Seven.
“April 16, 2013.”
“A man named Alexander McBride got your heart. I’ll be meeting him soon. I hate him already. Does that make me crazy?”
Seven.