This time it wasn’t deliberate. I wasn’t looking for your number, trying out random digits hoping I’ll get it right, and that I’d recognize it when the combination is right. You weren’t even on my mind. I was looking for a restaurant number, and after I typed in the first two digits, a very familiar number appeared. Of course, I recognized it immediately but had my doubts, so I cross-checked with the directory and there it was. It was yours. And me being the person I am, couldn’t ignore the surprising turn of events that brought me head-on with a number I tried so hard to never remember. And me also being me, put a deeper sense of meaning to it, because what the heck? You haven’t answered my calls in years, and not like you will do now. But I just had to try. Of course, as expected, you didn’t answer. And as expected, I was relieved. I call every time just to see if you would answer, not because I have much to say. It’s like a little game where I lose every time, but I do it again maybe in a year or two. I don’t have a lot of answers, and I don’t even need them, but I still wonder why. I guess you grew up, became the man I always said you weren’t. I guess I just have a lot to apologize for, and that’s what haunts me. These calls are selfish; it’s an attempt to devoid myself of guilt, and I’m glad you don’t answer and serve this self-serving purpose of mine. But after all these years, I wonder why you have nothing at all to say to me, even though I fully understand it.
She Was Sea 