Wrong Number

Ten

"What crawled up your ass?" Max asked the next day at dinner while we ate the Chinese take-out he provided.

"Max, be nice!" Lindsay scolded. "What's wrong hon?"

"Yeah hon," Kyle teased, "what's wrong?"

I rolled my eyes and carried my food to my room. I wasn't in the mood to talk to them, especially after waiting last night and all day for my phone to ring. There was no way I was losing this connection with Lydia because I didn't do anything wrong!

I heard the three intruders talking about me through the paper thin walls and that only upset me more. Hopefully they realized that I just needed some space instead of sending Lindsay in here after me. Within a few minutes they actually left the apartment and I landed on my bed with a thud. Should I reach out to her or wait for her to contact me? What if she never did?

———

I didn't hear from Lydia for almost a week but woke when my phone started ringing loudly around two in the morning on the Saturday after Thanksgiving.

"Hello?"

"James?" I was pulled from my drowsy state as soon as her soft voice floated through. It sounded strained and panicked.

"Lydia? What's going on, what's wrong?"

"Why are you so nice to me? You should hate me like everyone else." She was full-on sobbing.

"Hey, calm down. Nobody hates you."

"Yes they do! Tyler's parents, they hate me! I killed their son and they hate me!"

"They don't hate you Lydia."

She sounded short of breath and I wasn't sure what to do. Was she home? Was she here? How could I help her?

"They don't forgive me. They think it's all my fault. I-I had to l-leave."

"Please, sweetheart, calm down. Take a breath okay?" I flinched inwardly when I used a pet name for her. I definitely don't want to scare her away. "You're alright Lydia, it's just you and me okay? Calm down and talk to me."

"James, James."

"Shhh. Take a deep breath, relax. I'm here." I gave her a few moments to calm down before speaking again. "Tell me what's wrong Lydia."

"They came over for Thanksgiving and I asked for their forgiveness. I told them I was so sorry and they didn't say anything."

"Then what?"

"They started yelling." She was still crying and it was killing me inside. "They say it's my fault too. It's all my fault that he's gone."

"Lydia, it's not your fault. Car accidents are just that, accidents." She stayed quiet but her breathing was evening out so I knew she was starting to calm down. "Talk to me."

"I can't," she said and then hung up.