I’ve been in contact with a ghost. I don’t know what it wants, and I don’t know how to communicate what I want. I feel like we’re both stuck in a cycle of trying to pretend the other isn’t there, yet both wanting something out of this connection. Or maybe I’m just projecting.
A while back, I lost a dear friend. Well, dear to everyone but me. Nick and I never really had a connection, not like I did with everyone else in the friend group and not like he did with everyone else in the friend group. He was the kind of person I only saw in group settings, especially outings, y’know? Still, when I heard he’d drowned while on a family cruise, I was pretty upset. I mean, what kind of person wouldn’t be?
I had his number solely from being in group chats with him when planning parties. We’d never sent a single text to each other. Ever. I think I called him once because he lost his phone in some couch cushions. I think you get the point. We were pretty bare bones when it came to being “friends”.
The other day a new group chat was made to make plans for the weekend, and I realized it was new because it was the first time we’d made a group chat for plans since Nick died. It got me thinking about Nick, and, almost subconsciously, I opened his contact and began to draft a text. I don’t really know why I did it. It got me missing him, I guess.
When I came back to my senses, I was about to send a text telling him how much I missed him and how much it sucked that he was gone.
I ended up deleting it all and sending a text that said “Hey.”
I practically threw my phone across the room, feeling like an idiot for holding onto these strong feelings instead of using the text messages that would be seen by no one as an outlet for my emotions.
I left it on that. “Hey.” I didn’t get a notification telling me the phone was out of service, which was nice. I feel like that would’ve confirmed he was gone.
A week later, I’m scrolling through my messages, and I see the text. I feel guilty about not saying more, so this time, I say more. I won’t disclose details here, it’s private, but getting all my emotions out in a way no one else will see made me feel better. I closed the messages app and forgot about it.
Three weeks later, I sent another text, this time a reminder to grab coffee creamer while I was at the grocery store, since I’d forgotten to write it on my physical list and I didn’t have a pen with me to add it. I figured sending the text would be an almost funny way of writing it down, and that made it memorable.
I got to the dairy aisle, and looked at my phone, planning to smile at reading back my own text.
My blood ran cold as I saw a notification on my home screen. A text from Nick.
Immediately I assumed that his phone number had finally been deactivated or however the hell that works. But it wasn’t a stock standard text telling me that the phone I tried to reach was out of service and couldn’t go through.
It said “almond or oat creamer?”
I had no clue what to say. It had to be a family member going through his phone, or maybe his number had already been given to a new person, and the person was amused by light grocery store chatter.
I simply text back “who is this?”
I get my reply when I’m in the checkout line.
“Did you lose my number, [my name]?”
Now I’m completely baffled. I had never met anyone in his family and I highly doubt he ever told them about me. And he didn’t have me saved in his phone as my real name, he had it as a nickname, M40, from the time I beat him in Edward 40 hands. He saved everyone in his phone as nicknames, so it wasn’t that special.
I wondered if it was one of our friends, but I just couldn’t think of which of our friends would do something like this? A fair share of our friend group were pranksters, but no one would ever be this disrespectful.
When I got home, I texted him,
I stared at the simple text convo for longer than I’d like to admit.
“Are you doing anything this weekend?”
Silence. For the next few weeks. As sad as that sounds, that made me more convinced that it was him. He never responded to texts to hang out from the group chats. He would just text the host individually letting them know he’d show up, and then he’d arrive late and leave early. I’d gotten used to the pattern.
At the next friend hangout I glanced around the room, both to see if anyone secretly had another cell phone on them, but I also kept glancing at the door, as if in any minute, Nick would burst through with a six pack and demand what the next board game we’d play would be. But of course that didn’t happen. Because Nick is dead.
I sent more texts. I asked how he was. I asked if he’d be coming to a group hang out every time it happened. Never a reply. I even texted him about coffee creamer again, just to see if I’d get something like I had last time. Nothing.
Finally, I sent one more text. I’m practically begging with this one.
“We need to talk. Call me when you get the chance.”
Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.
Until he called me one night at the ungodly time of 3:57 in the morning. I pick up my phone, tired and groggy, and as soon as I answer the call it hangs up.
I haven’t gotten a call since. All my attempts at calling him go straight to voicemail. I don’t know what the fuck to do anymore. I feel like I’m on the verge of something but I don’t know what.
Maybe I’m overreacting by calling this “communication.”
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