I picked up the telephone, dialled that same number again. I had to tell him. The sunset over the lake, the silence just made it so much more real for me. I was in our spot, right by the fence that we built as teenagers. The old tree was nothing but a thin stump now, our rope swing long forgotten. The pinks and the purples of the darkening sky reminded me of the colour of his lips on a cold day, the blues made me think of the hints of blue in his eyes. God, we were such a cliche.
By the seventh ring, I was considering giving up; suddenly I heard his deep baritone echo through the phone. I took a deep breath and asked him to just listen to me for five minutes, to not say a word until I was done.
I began my ramble, classically pouring out words with no control: how I loved him, how I’d never stopped, how I needed to see him in our spot, here with me. How I needed to kiss him on the boat in the middle of the lake again.
“I love you, I always did, always have, I’m in love with you. I left thinking I could find something better, I was in search of skin that wasn’t yours. I wanted something, anything else; the safety of your arms terrified me. I looked for that same loving gaze in the eyes of strangers, the colour no matter, as long as they weren’t yours. I listened to their stories, brighter or darker than mine (usually brighter). I was trying to fix people in order to fix myself, but all I ever needed was you. I couldn’t tell my friends, I could tell no one. Even my family pushed me back to you, they always did; you made me, me. I kept pushing back though, I insisted that in the future I would take someone – a part of me knows I will take someone else if you don’t pick me back now. And I’m so sorry it took me so long, but I love you, and this time it’s forever. But I know I’ve been a ghost and fading into nothingness for you, but please, I’m here now.”
The absolute dead noise at the other end of the phone was broken by his harsh whispering.
“Ssssshhhhh! You were never a ghost, not to me.”