If it was still saved there…
I’d listen to it. It would tear me apart, but I would listen because I missed her voice and her presence. Mostly I just missed knowing she was somewhere in the world, and maybe hearing her again, even just that small clip, would bring her back long enough to fill the hole she’d left in me.
Picking the machine up cautiously, as if it were delicate and might break if I mishandled it, I got to my feet and began searching for a place to plug it in. The outlets in the living room were all in use or behind furniture, so I took it into the dining room, plugged it in, and set it on the table.
The display lit up showing zero new messages. I held my breath as I flipped through the menu to the saved items. Then, when the automated voice said, “You have two saved messages,” I pushed the button to play them all and held my breath again, hoping one of them was her.
The automated voice announced the first message’s time stamp, and I sighed with relief and melancholy when I realized it was hers.
“Emily.” Tears slipped down my face. I couldn’t believe it had only been a week since I’d last heard her say my name. “It’s been ages, I know. But I’ve been thinking about you. God, I’m not even sure if this is still your number. Anyway, I wanted to ask – do you still have that blue raincoat? Miss you. Bye.”
I sank down into a chair as my crying strengthened. It was such a little thing, listening to a silly ten-second voice mail message, but it was a gut punch. Knowing I wouldn’t ever again, hearing her say blue raincoat (our safe word), realizing it couldn’t keep her safe – it brought on an onslaught of emotion that had needed to be released. I pushed Play again, put my face in my hands, and sobbed.
I was too absorbed in my blubbering to stop the message when it finished the second time. The automated voice moved onto the next saved recording, and I was semi-aware of another time and date being announced. But then it started playing, and my breath caught.
It was her voice again. Amber’s. A second message.
I restarted the message, and my heart started to pound when I realized it had been left on the night I’d last seen her. The night she’d died.
“Hi.” There was a beat. “Hi,” she said again and every part of my body tensed. “I’m in my room on Oinopa. I left you about half an hour ago, I think? Maybe longer. Anyway, I wanted to tell you I changed my mind. I don’t want you to leave the island tomorrow. I was wrong to ask you to go. I was selfish. I’m selfish a lot. I know.”
Sinking. I felt like I was sinking, sinking, sinking.
“I went to tell you that. Went to tell you to stay. Went to your room.” If I’d thought her first revelation had been overwhelming, this was earth-shattering. Heartbreaking. She’d gone to my room, and of course, I hadn’t been there.
“Surprise! Your room was empty.” She laughed bitterly. “I was worried. Or maybe curious. So I went to Reeve to see if he knew where you were, and when I got to his room, right before I knocked… well, except for the master bedroom, the walls here are thin.”
“Oh, no,” I gasped out loud. “No, no, no.”
But yes. That’s exactly what had happened – she’d heard Reeve and me together. Heard us making love.
“I was upset. And I went back to my room to think about it and I got more upset.” The items on the floor by her vanity. She’d thrown them there. “Lucky thing I snagged those pills. I saw them in your suitcase when I was helping you pack. And right now I’m just super grateful you hadn’t dumped them down the toilet.”
Fuck. The pills.
I’d forgotten all about them. The ones I’d taken from her the day we arrived. I’d hidden them in my suitcase, and, now that I thought about it, they hadn’t been there when I unpacked. Why the hell hadn’t I thrown them out?
“I’ve had a few of them now. Maybe more than a few. I’m going to have a few more in a bit. Or a lot more. Whatever. Just, first…”
She let out a long labored breath, and I closed my eyes, wanting to block out her voice, wanting to avoid the ending where this conversation inevitably led, but not able to cover my ears or shut off the machine. I had to keep listening, as horrible as it was to hear. I had to know all of it.
“This isn’t a blue raincoat call.” How ironic was it that the safe word she’d made for me had only ever been used by her? “You’ll get this when it’s too late to do anything to help me. Honestly, it was probably too late for you to help me when we met. But maybe that’s why I loved you so much – because you didn’t try. You didn’t try to fix me or take me back home or tell me that my life was on a downward spin. You only wanted to make me happy. I think you’re the only person who ever really did. I’m sorry it was such an impossible task.
“And now it’s my turn to return the favor. If I can’t have Reeve, there isn’t anyone else I’d want him to be with except you. I just can’t be around to see it happen. I hope you understand.”
She was quiet, and I thought she might be done, but I could still hear her breathing. It grew slower and slower over the next several seconds. “Okay,” she said finally, possibly jerking herself awake. “I’m getting tired. I’m gonna go for a walk now.” Her words were starting to slur. “It’s such a nice, nice night. And you know how I love high places. I’m letting you go, Em. I let you go.”
There was a rustling sound as she moved to hang up, then a click. Then a beep, and the automated voice returned to say, “You have listened to all your saved messages.”