𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋 ❝ And you call me up again just to break me like a promise, so casually cruel in the name of being honest... ❞
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✥
Love isn't real.
It was a fairytale fed to me on a shiny spoon, it was a fantasy straight out of a book, it was everything he was supposed to say exampled in books written by women, only women, because we set an impossible standard for them to follow. We hoped day after day our relationships would change and these relationships would somehow make us feel complete. Now, I am not shaming women because I too have ignored the red flags because we like the shade range, we think I can fix him when shown a damaged soul, but no we cannot... because they drain so much from us already.
How come we, women, were somehow the ones left with the nightmares of the aftermath of past relationships? Men walked free, restrained no longer once they decided they wanted out. Truth was, they got away with doing whatever they wanted. I hated that. How should they be able to walk free from relationships with a single text message, leave behind their children? I hated everything about them that was real, the parts that you never read about or saw on TV. Because the truth was, men sucked. But Nicholas Sparks didn't want to tell you that.
I had hated men for practically all my life. Yet he had managed to make me forget all that.
It was getting harder and harder the longer I stayed going out, pretending everything was okay. I hated myself for what I had gotten myself into. I had always been cautious with dating, always double-checking for the red flags. I had done this on purpose so I wouldn't end up hurt and stuck with all the baggage as women had before I had.
And what happened? I got my stupid heart broken anyway.
You know when you're already having a rough day, and something small can make you burst, like the cherry on top? Well currently, I was shoving my key into the door of my small home hopelessly, completely mad at the world. The sun was setting around six in the evening now, because for some reason we needed to save all the time in the world. I held a tote bag filled with groceries, I could hear my glass bottles filled with juice clanking together each time I thrust the stupid key into the hole. You goddamn thing, I muttered under my breath.
Finally, after a good five minutes of freezing my balls off and trying not to smash the bread or ruin any other groceries I had flying around in my tote bag, I managed to open the door to my cozy little home.
Placing my bag gently on the wooden bench near my door, I wiggled my coat off and hung it on the rack, eager to change into more comfortable clothes. Lowkey, I hated wearing jeans. But I was told getting dressed and going out would help me feel more motivated. Whatever, we are giving this a try, 'cause I am getting so sick of being depressed all the time.
I picked my bag up and walked into the kitchen, then unloading the contents onto the counter while I called out for my puppy Snowflake who roamed my home freely. When she came crawling out from behind the corner of the counter, where her dog bed had been placed near my barstools, I smiled down at her. A little terrier mix I had picked up from the shelter right after the breakup, she ended up seeing the worst parts of me right away. But she also gave me a reason to wake up most days. Who needed the other more, I wasn't sure, but I loved this little puff of snow with all my heart.
"Hello, baby, sleep well?" I asked, her face evident that she had napped while I was out running errands. "Good girl, you wanna go outside before it gets dark?" I said, already making way to the back door with Snowflake at my heel following excitedly. She was the most sweetest, most innocent. I would do anything to be a clueless and pampered dog.
Going back to the kitchen, I pressed the button on the landline to play my voicemail box out loud for me. That was my mistake.
See, I didn't much use the landline except for emergencies or to contact my management because it had better long-distance service than my iPhone, and there was something very soothing about walking around the house, usually chatting with my assistant, with the landline placed in between my shoulder and ear when I was multi-tasking. It was as close as I could get to going back to the 90s.
The first message was left from a friend, who informed me that I left something at their house, the second message was left from my agent who just said I needed to call her back, yet it was the third message that really caught my attention.
I nearly cut my finger on the knife in my hand, chopping away at some carrots placed out on my wooden cutting board, when I heard his voice echo throughout my house.
I slowly put down the knife and flipped my long brown locks over my shoulder so I could focus. It had been almost eight months since the last time we spoke, which wasn't such a good memory either.
"Hey," followed by an awkward throat clearing, he continued. "I-I.... I know this is random. I just... I was thinking about you today." It was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if I was making this up in my head. "I guess it's true what they say; you don't really know a good thing until it's gone. I... More than anything, I just wanted to reach out and say...." a deep breath. "I'm sorry, so tremendously sorry. More than you'll ever know.There are not enough flowers I could send or voicemails I could leave or gestures that could ever - ever - make up how I treated you. I should have reached out sooner, but something tells me you wouldn't have taken well to a bouquet or gift basket telling you I was sorry," he was right. "Since, you know, you blocked me on everything. I'm... not blaming you. I just..." his voice cracked. "I'm so sorry, Josefina. I still love you and I need you."
I turned around, like I was expecting him to be there in the flesh with a sorry expression on his face, like he was somehow going to shape up to be the man I needed him to be... but I was met with nothing. I stared at the blinking red number on the machine. It was still going.
"Please give me a call back, Fina. We had such a great thing... I would hate to see it going to waste."
