the broken

Chapter 6

JANUARY, 2009

Phil

We're halfway through breakfast when the phone rings.

Breakfast with Jamie is always two bagels, toasted brown, and green tea with honey. It's always too late to be breakfast, too early to be lunch, and it's always eaten at the table in whatever was slept in. No phones.

I try to ignore it, I really do. I take another bite of my bagel and Jamie looks at me. He doesn't say a word but I know what he's saying.

Don't pick it up.

It rings again and I stop, mid bite.

The look again.

Another ring.

So I pull it out of my pocket, because no one ever calls, not even Jamie, and I'm curious, and I slide it open.

"Hello?"

There's no sound but breathing and I almost hang up but then

"Phil? Hello, is this Phil?"

"Um, yeah."

There's another awkward silence but then the voice laughs awkwardly, shakily.

"I'm... sorry, this was a mistake, I'll go..."

And then a face comes to the voice.

"Dan?"

"I...yeah."

I lean back in my chair, avoiding Jamie's eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Um...I...please come."

My heart crawls up into my throat.

"It's bad, it's really bad."

Even through the phone, his voice shakes, and I run my hands through my hair, terrified, before responding.

"I'm coming. Where are you?"

"The cliff... the..the one over the river."

"Alright, I'll be right there, just hang on, okay?"

I hold back the rising vomit I can feel at the back of my throat.

"Don't hang up, okay? Can you do that for me?"

There's a moment of silence in which my heart steadily climbs up into my throat, until finally, he says in a small voice,

"Okay."

And then I push my chair back and fly out of the door, mind in a blur as I throw myself into my car.

Words spill out of my mouth, mindless, stupid words of reassurance as I press my foot down on the gas and watch the speedometer climb.

He's quiet, and it gets harder and harder to get answers out of him and when I turn onto the street leading to the overhang, the phone goes dead and all of a sudden my head is filled with static.

I slam on my brakes as I screech to a stop in the parking lot by the cliff.

I fling myself out of the car, feet skidding, and my heart sinks when I see a figure pressed against the other side of the protective railing that was meant to keep people from wandering too close to the edge of the cliff. The swollen river roars below, loud enough to be heard even over the wind. I shiver, run up to the edge of the railing.

"Dan?"

The figure turns around at the sound of my voice, small and fragile and white, so paper white all except for a purple stain across his cheek. His eyes are wide and terrified.