Ray’s Call

Ray found his finger twirling the telephone wire, while he listened.
‘Did you hear me, Ray? It could be different this time.’

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It was halfway through the lockdown, all alone in his apartment in the south side of the city, on day 14, when Ray decided as soon as things returned to normal, he would go back. When he said as much on the phone to Lenore, she’d asked him when things had ever been ‘normal’ between them.
He didn’t reply, but he imagined she was holding her hand in front of her, palm facing inwards, so she could see the scars on the inside of her arm. Thin strips of damaged skin making three red circles in a line. Like bullet holes. The recollection made him uncomfortable and his call seemed like a stupid idea. He left it at that and didn’t say anything about it for the rest of the conversation.
Then less than a week before the government announced that the lockdown was over, she called back to ask him, ‘When you last said about moving back here, were you serious?’
‘Yeah,’ he said. He’d been serious about it. But he’d been having doubts since then.
‘You changed your mind?’
‘You know how something seems like a good idea at the time?’ He hesitated just a bit before saying, ‘If this is gonna work, it’s gonna depend on you.’
‘On me? And not on you, Ray?’
He didn’t utter the first thing that came to mind. Maybe he could have put it differently. Did she realize that for things to be different, it would take more on her part, without him having to put it any plainer? She was silent. He waited. He was trying to recall if it had been her right or left hand with the cigarette burns.
‘Ray?’
‘Yeah?’
‘He’s gone. For good.’
Ray found his finger twirling the telephone wire, while he listened.
‘Did you hear me, Ray?’
‘I heard.’
‘It could be different this time. And you’re right. It would be really up to me.’
Ray got his finger out and looked at the orange telephone. Of all the colors.
‘Lenore-‘
‘Ray, he’s gone. I haven’t seen him in months. No calls, nothing.’
‘Are you healthy?’
He heard her take a deep breath, then her voiced changed,
‘I am keeping well.’
He knew her. He could tell when she was sincere. He also knew when she lied. Maybe she understood him too. That whenever he fell silent in the middle of a conversation, it was because something had made him uncomfortable.
‘Ray?’
‘Yeah Lenore?’
‘I’m fine. Did you hear me? Haven’t been ill or to hospital in a while. I’ve been teaching at a kinder-garden three days a week. Mondays through Wednesdays. When the lockdown’s over, I’m going back to work there.’
‘How long you been there?’
Silence.
‘Just a few weeks so far. But it’s a nice change. The kids are lovely.’
He nodded as if she could see his approval, though she was on the other side of town.  Kids. Yeah, lovely. His finger began twisting the circle of wires again.
‘We can meet for tea, one of these afternoons when you are off, when things are back to normal. You still at the dispensary?’
‘Yes I am. Just completed twelve years, can you beat that?’
‘Wow!’
‘Tea sounds good.’
‘One of these days, Ray. Once the lockdown is over.’
He put the phone down.
photo from Unsplash.com by Annie Spratt

The Voice in the Well

There are places we should not go to.

There are no Gods and Goddesses down here despite what anyone else might have told you. This is a well, a very dry and old one, but it is the very bottom of everything there is, everything that you know of. They do not send those with hope or means this way. It’s only those without influence and a future that find themselves here. Round the stairs, down and down, did you look over to see the drop, as you made your way here? This is quite a distance from the surface, you do realise that? Look up. That pin prick above your head, at the very centre of the dark circle – that’s the sun. The outside. Everything you had known. Where all things possible are present. Things like hope. Expectation too. But not down here. Continue reading “The Voice in the Well”