The Voice

The story is about two lovely couple fell in love. 6,000 miles distance apart, Marco and Ana whom met in the air and instantly love blossom most of the times, and it’s rather rare. It’s the kind of love that doesn’t signal the beginning of something beautiful, but rather the end of something that might have been beautiful, but will never amount to anything more than what it is.

I smiled down at the small tin box sitting on my kitchen counter. I picked it up, cradling it in my hands as I gently opened it, looking down at the photos we took at Sicily. Blushing profusely, I looked down in embarrassment and elicited a baby-like giggle. Enjoying my reactions, I slowly placed my finger on my lips, instantly vanished the moment where he kissed me so passionately. However, those emotions that I locked in the back of my mind, that I tried to forget him, my tear drop continuously. Still gazing down at it, I reached over to grab my phone. Pushing the on button, I scrolled through my apps until I came to my voicemail. I clicked on the last recording (#16) down and pressed play. I smiled softly as the light, happy sound of Marco’s voice came through the tiny speaker. My heart shattered.

“Ana…just a second…I’m just…hang on a moment.” There was the sound of a brief scuffle, some shuffling fabric, and a bit of heavy breathing, then Marco’s voice came back. “Sorry about that, I was trying to get my luggage out of the trunk of the taxi. I just wanted to call you one more time before I’m on the plane, which I am late for. I’m not going to be able to call you for a couple hours and I just wanted to let you know I’m safe and on my way home.” There was a brief pause where the only sound was of the suitcase clicking on the tiles and the murmur of voices in the background. I rubbed my thumb across the soft velvet of the box in front of me, closing my eyes and bracing myself for the next words. “Honey, I miss you. I can’t wait to hug you,” he said with a small laugh. His smile was apparent in his tone. “Ok, I see the custom office, so I’m going to have to hang up soon. I’ll see you in a couple hours unless I miss my plane, in which case you will hear from me again. I love you so much!” I listened to the last few seconds of distant beeps and chatter before the recording cut off.

Taking the phone away from my face, I looked down at the screen in silence for a few moments before pressing the green “call back” button. I drew the phone back up to my ear as I waited for it to go to voicemail, listening to the long, drawn-out beeps. I smiled again, just briefly as I heard Marco fumble with the phone before chirping out, “Hello! You have reached Marco-”

“AND ANA!” I heard my voice yell from the background.

“Ana, you can’t be in my voicemail,” came the answering reply, sounding a bit pouty.

“Oh, yes? I believe I can,” my voice said again, coming from much closer this time. There was a muffled sound of disbelief as there was the sound of me taking the phone out of his hand. “Hello, you have reached Marco voicemail. If you need him for something, too bad his’s not available. Goodbye.” There was the sound of me handing the phone back to Marco.

“Very nicely done. Now no one will ever call me again,” he said, trying to sound grumpy, but failing miserably.

Right before the recording, my voice came, distantly again. “Love you my dear.”

I pulled the phone away again and slowly shut it off. I set it on the table next to Marco’s photo frame. I stared down and admiring the same, and tears started to fog my vision, my throat tightening painfully. I closed the tin box and wrapped my fingers around it, holding it against my heart as I began to sob.

I struggled to breathe in a breath of air, lungs failing to respond as another sob racked my body. I heard my tears hitting the table with small pattering noises, felt them rolling down my face, but I couldn’t feel them, I couldn’t feel anything except the burning, tearing feeling in my heart. I was attempting to draw in air, stomach burning with the force of my cries.

I blindly fumbled with my phone, opening my gallery and staring down at a picture of me and Marco standing together. My dark brown hair and tanned skin, amazing how the light shine that can match to his skin and almost equal. We had our arms around each other and were leaning towards each other without even realizing it. My eyes were crinkled up in a smile, head thrown back in mirth while he was simply looking at me with a small smile on his face. We are in loved.

I exited my gallery and went to my dial screen, typing in Marco’s number and listening to the ringing, then our brief banter before my voice said, “Love you dear,” and the beep sounded.

“Marco,” I choked out, voice raw from sobs. “Marco, please come back to me,” I cried, leaning my forehead against my hand. “I can’t do this without you. I miss you. Why couldn’t you have missed your plane and been late for once in your entire life? You can’t be-” My voice broke, making it temporarily impossible to speak. I drew in a ragged breath. “You can’t be dead,” I whispered. “Please don’t leave me,” I choked out. “Please.” Shakily breathing in, I rested my forehead against my hand once more, then let it sink to the countertop. I continued to hold the phone against my ear as I continued to breathe in…and out. In…and out.

I closed my eyes and cried silently until the recorder shut by itself off with a long beep.

Originally published at http://fizzawrite.com on June 27, 2019.