Marvin Room Phone Calls
The distant sound of a phone vibration woke me up from sleep around 2:35 am today. I reached out and couldn’t recognize the phone number. 347 area code? What state was that? What time was it?
I let the call go and rolled back into my multiple covers, a necessity in the early Winters of New York. Mists of lavender oil and the glow of the scented candle kept me company as I lay wide awake minutes later. Who was calling this early? Why? Was everything okay?
I hesitated and then dialed the number, not knowing who was going to pick up on the other line.
“Hey,” a male voice answered on the other line.
“Hi,” I replied, trying furiously to place the caller.
“Hey,” he replied again, hints of resignation and sadness carrying across the line. It finally clicked in those millisecond of pauses — it was Shawn. The man who confessed to loving me the first time we met. The man who envisioned a future for us including two kids, a big wedding and a lifetime of devotion and love. The man who supported me like no other, speaking affirmations into my life and building me up to be to live my potential. The man who had blocked my number and all my social media accounts after I said I didn’t see this working out.
Here we were, talking weeks later, in the early hours of the morning — a ghost from the…
