The Unspoken Voicemail

My alarm woke me up too early today.

It makes me think of you.

You made me change it so it wouldn’t wake you up. Do you remember? It was only two months into our relationship. Almost three years ago now.

It took me days to find the right one and weeks to get used to a new one. But it was worth it because I did it for you, to give you those few extra hours of sleep. We had our routine down early on. I would have my time in the morning; you would have it at night. We shared our home harmoniously.

Now, I stare at the stark white ceiling and stock photos on the hotel wall...you don’t want to hear about that though.

I powered off my phone to close my eyes again. I wish I could say I didn’t dream of you...but I did. I have every night since you went away. Though, the dreams haven’t been the same. They’ve been tinted...almost blurry. Everything these days feels hazy.

We left a lot unsaid. You know that.

It seems almost as if you packed up and left. I know it lingered for months in between the walls, but it still feels sudden. A sudden shift of space: no more setting the dining table for two, no more late walks in the park, no one to tell the mundane things to or ask if they need anything at the market. It seems almost as if you packed up and left, and I guess you did.

But I packed up and left too. Did you already know that? Before now? I’m sure you already knew that. I bet Dan told you. He says you’re doing alright out there. Are you? I hope so.

I hope not. I hope you feel the emptiness as I do. That’s a cruel thing to say, isn’t it? Sorry.

How are you doing? I haven’t asked you that yet. Sorry. Maybe that’s one of the reasons we are where we are. Was I too selfish?

Was I not selfish enough? That I didn’t ask for anything more? I never wanted anything more, do you hear that? You did. You wanted more. But I wouldn’t know that, would I? Because I let you leave with barely an explanation. I didn’t fight. I wouldn’t fight. Not because I didn’t want you to stay, but because you were already gone. Always one foot out of the door.

What made you take that extra step?

Was it something I did? Something I said? Or maybe something I didn’t say.

I’ve been racking my brain for reasons.

The month you left, you mentioned you were getting frustrated with New York. I brushed it off. I shouldn’t have done that, if I could go back in time, I wouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. Maybe then, I could’ve come with you. We could have left New York together. But you didn’t want that, did you? Because then I would be there with you, instead of here in the silence. My brain is too noisy in this silence. I wish you could fill it like you always did.

You were so good at that. Being able to tell when I was overthinking. You would put on my favorite song, pull me off the couch, and move my stiff limbs until I could give in to the music, give in to you. I miss that.

Do you?

Sorry I’m asking all these questions. I probably shouldn’t have even called. No, I definitely shouldn’t have called. I'm sorry. You don’t need to hear any of this. You wouldn’t have left if you did.

Dan said I should wait a little longer, give you some space, but I haven’t heard anything at all. He’s said only bits and pieces. It’s not that I deserve answers, or that I even want answers. Maybe it’s better this way. Living in the unknown, keeping our memories safe and bright.

But, if you ever get the chance, call me back.

Even if it’s just to say goodbye. Just a word.

Or a text. That works too.

I wish you all the best, I really do.

Thanks.

M

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This piece was inspired by “From the Dining Table” by Harry Styles