The Echo of You

Today began much like the days before.

It began with silence.

I sat on the same empty spot on the bed again. Your spot. How long has it been now? Eight months now? Nine? The house still feels thick with your absence.

Sometimes I think that I hear your car pull in. The door opens and I hear you rush up the stairs. It’s like I can almost see you standing in the doorway.

Your touch... I can almost remember the warmth of your hands. Your breath against my shoulder in the morning. The way that you would sing, just a little, as you were falling asleep. Just a soft little hum.

Your voice... I keep thinking about your voice.

I played that old message again last night. You sounded tired, but you still laughed at the end. I talk to it sometimes. It’s ridiculous, I know. The dead can't talk back, but I keep listening anyway.

If I only had more of your voice... Just a little more... Maybe the quietness wouldn't be so heavy.

I sat there for a long time clutching the phone with my hands afraid to let go. The screen had gone dark, but I stared at it anyway.

There was an ad that popped up yesterday. It was something about voice recordings. Turning your old messages into.. More. I convinced myself that it was dumb... People don't do that. But still... It sat in the back of my mind.

I got up and shuffled over to the laptop sitting by the bed. I opened it just to look. That's all. My hands felt heavy on the keys. That was when I saw it in the corner of the window: “Upload your loved one's voice and hear them again”. There was a picture of an old lady hugging her kids. Under the image it said, “Custom voice clone”.

“This is insane”. I said out loud. I slammed the laptop shut and leaned back, rubbing my temples.

A machine isn't you. A phone isn’t you either. But still... The therapist did say that memories would help.

I opened the lab top again. I clicked on the ad. I followed the instructions and uploaded the last voicemail that I had of you. Then I submitted any videos that I found online. I kept going until the site wouldn't let me add more. Time got blurry. I didn't eat. The phone rang, but I ignored it-probably work again.

I am not sure how long after, but the download was completed; the speaker stayed silent for a while.

The word TEST appeared on the screen.

“Hey there”. It said.

I stared at it. My chest felt tight.

“Hello?” It asked. “Bradley?”

“Yea.” I managed.

“Oh I am so glad it’s you. I missed you”.

It wasn’t you, I knew that. But for a second it sounded just like you.

“I missed you too.” I said. “More than you know.”

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of silence again. I grabbed an old speaker and set it in the kitchen like it was normal. The light from the morning sun shone through the blinds making it seem peaceful.

“Coffee on love?” I asked like it was you.

Your voice answered right away. “Coffee’s on, love.”

I nodded to an empty room. “I missed this.” I said as I stared at the speaker.

We talked for a while. I told you about the dream that I had where you were still here. I told you about work. I talked about your parents and how they eventually stopped calling. We talked and laughed. It was like you never left.

I didn’t go to work. They kept calling and leaving messages. I didn’t call back. I wanted to keep talking for just a little longer. What could it hurt?

The days started to blend together. Every morning I would carry the speaker to the kitchen and we would talk together. In the evening I would sit the speaker on your spot on the bed and tell it about my day. I would argue with you about the night that you died. Questioning why you never told me that you were scared. You would answer gently, the way you used to. It felt like we were fixing something.

When my sister called, I sent it to voicemail. She wouldn't understand.

One afternoon I asked you about humming before bed. “Do you remember how you used to hum before felling asleep?" I asked you. " Why dont you do that anymore?"

“I remember.” You said robotically. There was no emotion behind the voice.

I ignored it and told myself it was nothing. The internet connection in the house can be bad.

Weeks went by, and the bills on the counter kept piling up. My sister left more messages.

I didn’t listen to them.

I carried the speaker into the kitchen and sat in the usual spot.

The feeling of your absence started to grow again, and I couldn't stop thinking about the day that you died.

“Maria please.” I said. “That night.. Why didn’t you say anything? I keep thinking about it.”

The voice started. “Bradley, my love. I was......”

You cleared your throat the way you used to.

“I was...” You began again. Stuttering.

“I was... I was.... I was....”

And then nothing. The speaker went silent.I grabbed the speaker and held tight frantically pressing the button. The unpaid bills rested on the counter. The phone was still blinking with all of the missed messages. The refrigerator hummed in the background of the room.

“Please.” I whispered as I pulled the speaker to my body. “It’s Bradley. You missed me.”

I reached for the laptop. I can take you to our room. Maybe you just need power.

I went upstairs and plugged you in.

The house was completely quiet now.

I looked at the computer and no light flickered. I held the speaker to my chest trying to feel your warmth.

“ I am here.” I said. “I will always be here. Waiting.”

I listened.

And listened...

Silence.