Lacking Fragments: A Novel (Completed)

A Soundless Three-Minute III

"Listen, Anna, I—"

     "You didn't tell me you'd leave," said my wife. "You never did. What is wrong with you?"

     "Wait, I—"

     "Or is it so sudden? Huh? Why is it so sudden?"

     I didn't reply.

     "Now you listen to me," she pushed, "I have whats and whys in my mind. You better have a flattering explanation for this. But really, what were you thinking?"

     "Anna, please," I said, "take a breather..."

     "What's your business there? Why go there at all?" she went on, "I thought you like it here in the province. So why? Why did you leave so sudden? And please don't you please me, answer me, what were you thinking?"

     "Well, how can I speak if you're always interrupting me?"

     "Speak now."

     "I know," I replied. "I know it's sudden. Really, I know. I'm completely aware. But I phoned the firm about this... this getaway. This is something I have to do, Anna. This is something I just have to do, I swear this. I swear this every damn time, you have nothing to worry. We're fine. This trip... it's something about me... as a person, and always, our daughter is fine with me. I never neglect her," I told her as I could persuade. "We're fine," I repeated. "We're safe."

     "This is madness..." breathed Annalise. "You should've told me earlier. This is something to be planned about... and not when one just feels like it."

     "I'm sorry."

     "I'm your wife," she said. "For Christ's sake, I'm your companion. Why didn't you wait for me to get back home? I'm your life companion... you should've told me."

     "It's never planned at all. I phoned your—"

     "I mean why," sighed my wife, a deeper one. "Why didn't you wait for me?"

     "Well, I—"

     "Is it that urgent? I could've come with you there, you know that. If you don't mind me being with you, then I'll be there for you. I promised. We're married. Quick vacation in the mainland? Sure, sure. No problem. It'll be fun. Come on now, don't you think so?"

     "But you can't."

     "How come I can't?"

     "Because," I made her remember, "you're always busy with your job."

     Then a dead air.

     Dead beat.

     "I know you're upset, Anna. I know you're mad," I said in a while. "But I can't just do nothing about this... I needed to do this. I have to.

     "And yes, you have questions in your mind now. I'm aware of that, too. And for these I'm very, very sure. You're my wife, good heavens, you said it yourself. I never forget you're my wife. I love you. I really do, but please, let me explain. We can't fix this if we're both talking loud. We can't."

     From the other line I heard her inhaled. Sighed, even. I made sure every word I said would reach her clear. I wanted her to know. She gathered strength, like preparing for upcoming college exams, to say her next couple of words. "Go on," she said. "Explain yourself."

     So I did.

     I told her going here in the mainland was the right thing to do. I indicated it in the letter; she must've read it. I knew it's right— I just knew it. When I was at home, yes I knew I had to go here. But for the best of this telephone call, I thought, I wouldn't need to include the part I had the talk with the mirror. With myself. I wouldn't want to. I wouldn't let this telephone call to flee out of this world, out to something so alien; I wanted it to remain feet-grounded. And so I let that weird part fly off somewhere else; I didn't include it to this talk. I thought it would only make my wife angrier if she heard it. Perhaps... she might think I'm getting crazy as I grow old. Or you know, a plain-senile.