The Voicemail

Hey. It’s me. It’s... you know who it is, you still have my number. I checked. That was a joke. Sort of.

I’m outside Delgado’s. They’re closing. Did you know that? There’s a sign: “Thank you for forty-one years.” And I stood here like an idiot, because the first person I wanted to tell was you. And then I remembered we don’t do that anymore.

I’ve been thinking about what I said. At Mark’s. I’ve been thinking about it for a year, which you’d say is very me, and you’d be right.

I wasn’t wrong. About him. But I was wrong about how. I said it like I wanted you to lose, and I didn’t. I wanted you to be okay. I just didn’t know how to say that without sounding like your mother.

So. They have one tray of those almond things left. The ugly ones. I’m going to buy all of them. If you call me back in the next ten minutes, half are yours.

If you don’t... that’s okay. I’ll eat them. I’ll feel sick. It’ll be fine.

Okay. Bye. It’s me. Bye.