The Message

I juggled grocery bags, my purse, and the keys as I attempted to enter the apartment. I could hear the phone ringing inside and realized I couldn't make it in in time. Fortunately, the machine could get it. I finally managed to stumble inside and sighed with relief as I dropped the bags onto the counter. I pushed the button to replay all messages as I unloaded the groceries.

"Can you meet me tonight? I have some great plans to go to the mall and shop...call me!" my sister ordered.

My older sister often liked to dictate my life. She was interested in me dating and getting out more. I was more interested in being a recluse.

"I know you've probably just got home, but I can't seem to find the file on the Schwartzer case. Please tell me where it is."

I sighed. It was my boss. He could never find anything. He was one of the most difficult to please people, but he liked my organizational skills.

"This is your husband."

Click. I stared at the phone and dropped an apple. "That's impossible," I gasped.

I replayed the messages. The voice was unmistakable. But it was impossible! My husband was dead.

I checked the time the message had been recorded. Just a few minutes before I walked in. "It has to be a practical joke," I insisted out loud.

My cat looked up at me with a look that could only be described as puzzled. I had to admit I didn't typically talk to myself. "It's impossible!" I repeated.

I proceeded with my daily routine, ignoring the message. I told no one. They would think me to be insane. Instead I ate my solitary dinner, as I typically did. I didn't used to eat alone. I used to have a husband to eat with, but we had no children. One day, however, the police came to my door to inform me that he had died in a car crash.

We had had an argument in the morning...but now it was too late to fix anything. My husband was dead. Dead. Just like that. Without leaving anything for me but a heart torn in two. It had been months and I thought I was getting over it. I thought I would forget the pain at some point. I thought I would allow myself to forget the argument.

But this message…I couldn't get it off my mind. I didn't call anyone. The person who left the message might call back.

I wrapped myself up in a quilt and settled down to watch some TV. I flipped through channels. Nothing was on. Nothing that would distract me from the message.

The phone rang. I froze once more and stared at it. It rang again. I waited, still. I don't know what I was waiting for, but I was afraid. Afraid that perhaps it really was my husband. Afraid to hope that they'd been wrong. But how could they be wrong? My husband was dead and buried. It rang again. Impossible scenarios raced through my mind.

Maybe he hadn't died. Maybe it was someone else and they buried someone else. Maybe they buried him alive. No, no, that was impossible. He couldn't be calling me if they had buried him alive. What if he wasn't really dead? The phone rang once more and the answering machine picked it up. "I know you're in there."

That voice. I recognized the voice. It was my husband. It had to be! Through some miracle he was alive! "Answer the phone, darling."

I stopped halfway to the phone. He never called me darling. Never had. He said it reminded him of his mother. He hated his mother. She left his father when he was only four. He had been so bitter about it that he wanted nothing to do with her. He didn't want to be reminded of her. "I love you."

But he loved me! It had to be him. I touched the phone and jerked back. No. It was impossible. I saw a burst of light outside and jumped. What was that? A booming sound shook the house. Oh. It was just thunder. A storm. It reflected my inner turmoil.

I dropped to my knees and sobs racked my body. He was dead. I put flowers on his grave weekly. I left him notes. Notes he could never read, that comforted me nonetheless. "I love you."

I lifted my head slowly. It couldn't be my husband. Then who was it? Who loved me?

I returned to my chair and wrapped myself in the quilt. I fell into a restless sleep. A crash awoke me near 2:00AM. My eyes opened automatically. Had it happened? Had any of it happened? I replayed the messages. They were still there.

I saw a glow coming from outside, through the rain. I stepped outside, heedless of the fact I was just wearing a robe and no slippers. I ran towards the glow. He was there. Right in front of me. "Allen!" I called out.

"I love you," he said, blowing me a kiss.

A glow emanated from him. He started to rise up into the sky. "I need you!" I shouted into the rain.

"No. Not anymore. Be happy and remember I'm looking out for you."

I didn't remember going to bed. I didn't remember changing into dry clothes. But in the morning, my wet robe laid on a chair beside my bed. Did it really happen? Had my husband left me one last message? I knew at least one thing. He still loved me.