Unknown Caller

And suddenly I'm awake.

But why.

Then it becomes apparent as to why I awoke. My phone is ringing. I reach for it but am met with that motherly voice in the back of my head, 'should have cleaned your nightstand'. After first grabbing the t.v remote and cursing said motherly voice,  I finally seize my phone.

Unknown number. I turn and sheepishly gaze at the clock, 4:03 am. A slight anger builds. The nerve of people. As I press talk and smirk as I imagine the ways I will lecture this person on the proper time to call someone, I'm hit with a dial tone.

Missed call.

Probably for the better really. If it's important, they will leave a message. Or call back.

I close my eyes, and wait for the annoying ping that will signal that the disturber has left a message. What was I dreaming about before I was rudely interrupted. Was it about work? No. I struggle to remember. Was it something to do with football....What does it matter really? I will be back asleep with another dream soon enough.

No message, no call back. Not important. The phone is replaced to it's place on the cluttered nightstand. With a mental note to tidy it up in the morning, or maybe the following year.

Under covers. In darkness. Over tired. Ready to welcome back sleep. The proverbial dreamland. What was I dreaming about before.... Sharon? No. Was it something to do with Germany? I don't think so. If it wasn't for that sleep intruder, I would still be off dreaming about whatever it was. Who had called me? And more pressing,  why at such a terrible hour.

Could it have been James? Unlikely. Sasha?  Doubtful. Eric? Laughable. Whitney? Implausible. Ian? Inconceivable. Bailey? Unimaginable.

Besides, even if were any of these people, no matter how absurd the thought, their name and number would come up when they called.

But then who? Wrong number....probable. Just a matter of bad luck that my number was the one that was wrongly selected.

And then the thought hits my stomach with the sudden jolt the ringing phone had on my sleep earlier. What if it was her?

It was actually surprising how long it took me to even fathom the possibility that it could be her. As always seems the case, my mind wandered to her. Now I'm in a mental state of panic. My stomach has tightened. The thought of her always had this affect.

If it was her, and that if was an astounding if, why had she called. Was she finally ready to talk. Ready to say the things I had longed to hear when we last talked four months prior. Those four months spent thinking, contemplating, pondering, deliberating,considering, daydreaming, dreaming, about her finally calling. Calling and telling me she was ready. Ready to be with me. To love me. To accept me. Was she ready to finally make my life complete. To make my world right.

It had been a long four months of waiting. Of heartache. I understood that she was doing the right thing when she told me goodbye. Just because it was the right thing for her doesn't make it the right thing for me. I was crushed. I am crushed. Broken. No day goes by that doesn't leave me thinking of her. Dreaming of her. So I have waited.

Childlike excitement takes over and I am sitting up. The astounding 'if' has been forgotten. She had called. But why? To tell me she is ready. The painful wait is over. A high-like rush consumes my body. My world is right again.

The phone rings. The phone is in hand before I can even think to react. Unknown number. Her. A second is taken to collect myself. To try and restore something resembling calm. Deep breath. Exhale.

"Hello"

"Hi, is Steve there?"

So many things I want to say. Four months of planning this conversation. Playing it out in my head. This is the moment I have been waiting for. For the rest of our lives we will talk about this moment. We will laugh about how nervous we were. How excited. How happy.....Steve? Wait a second. Did I hear the voice ask for Steve? Who is
Steve?

"Hello?"

With a crippling thud, reality sets in. I'm not Steve. Wrong number. It's not her. I try to recover.

"Hi.....sorry......wrong number...."

I don't wait for a reply. The call is ended, but the phone remains in hand.

The crushed feeling returns. The broken feeling.

This isn't the first time I have gone through this. Once I thought I saw her car parked outside my house. Another time it was a letter with no return address. Even worse was the time that I smelt her perfume in a crowded mall. This time, like all the other times, it wasn't her.

And like all those other times, I am left with the stinging, gut wrenching, haunting truth.... she is never coming back.