75 Cents for Love
Fingers trembling, shaking, vibrating, ive been in this shelter for 20 minutes, telling myself not to do it. not this time
but i couldnt stop myself, and so my hands scratched the lustrous metal in my pockets, on the street, in the crevice of my bag. I collected as much as i could, and because of my faith i found just enough. 75 cents
They say loves expensive. That may be true, but that night it was less than a dollar,
my fingerless gloves reached and i pulled the reciever, like my force dictated my chance of success. What was success here? was it hearing the voice? talking? being forgiven? in my head i would be equally successful if the number didnt go through. If a monotonous robot told me
“Im sorry, but the number you’re calling doesn’t love you back, she never will again, if you need to contact an operator, she can’t help you either, you’re alone in this michael.” and i may stand shocked, body sliding down the side of the shelter, staring at the storm outside that radiates within me.
The rain was never unkind, she was always fair, she brought turmoil where turmoil followed her...She was always fair
I say no
I stand up, i pick up the reciever gently, i wont sit in this god damned petrichor the morning after i rains, im riding this storm outs if it fucking kills me.
I insert a quarter, then i start shaking, i insert another, my fingers dont work anymore
now a dime,
i think of all the broken memories
another
even more come flooding back
and the final nickel
something so small, could make something so complex work
my fingers mash the buttons as if im bringing her back to life
9-4-8
my nose starts to drip
9
my foot starts tapping, i didnt start it, now i cant stop it either
3
i remember the night i met her dad
2
i remember the night i hated her dad
3
as my finger punches the final number *literally punched it*
i feel different, frozen. Like the trees outside, standing still, maybe they could move. Maybe i can sing them a song, they might uproot, and give me a dance, we may smoke weed in the forests, and they’d tell me stories from 100 years ago when they were first planted., and we’d play songs, songs that she woudnt like...
i snap back to the present
i wait for the call to connect,
do i even have a middle name?
the tone starts to ring,
out once,
out twice
three times into the void.
a phone ringing into the silence is perhaps the saddest sound you will ever hear. someone reaching out, and no one helping, maybe refusing, maybe not. Maybe no one is there. but that person just needs a person. in this enormous world of 7 billion. Not a single voice is here
I hear a click, and faster than any action ive done before i throw the reciever onto the hanger, as abrputly and harsh as she ended me. When i consider what i had just done. It was the only right choice.
I couldn’t bear never dialing.
and i couldnt bear never knowing.
but now i did it, and i still didnt get an answer
when youre heartbroken something as small as the sound of their voice can relight the fire that once swept forests, the inferno that collapsed buildings, engulfed cities, and trapped hearts.
I grabbed my bag, and pushed the door out into the rainy night.
tommorow morning, i would smell the rain,
but for tonight
for now
i am the rain.
she was the sun
i wouldnt want it any other way.