I should call Annie. I should tell her. Of course she’d never believe me. If she thought I was being serious she’d have to have me committed.
I should call her anyway. Just to tell her I love her. I should tell her I love her as many times as I can between now and the end. I should give her all the advice I thought I’d be able to give over decades.
She’d hate that.
When she’s at school she never wants to talk to me. It’s always a bad time. She’s always busy or in a hurry. Her replies are curt. Her sighs are audible. In my head I can see her rolling her eyes.
I’m always a bit sad after those calls. Lonely. Now it would be too painful.
I know she loves me. She knows I love her. I will focus on that. I won’t ruin it with a phone call.
I miss her though. I wish I could see her one more time. Not seeing her will be the hardest part of all this.
I should call Annie. I will call her. Bratty attitude and all. But not today. Later.
She’s right. I never liked her to call me at school. There was always something else I wanted to do instead even if it was just nap or watch TV. After she died I replayed every snarky dismissal in my head regretting every one.
I should have made more time for her. If I’d known I would have, but that shouldn’t matter should it?
I wish she would have tried to tell me, but, no, I wouldn’t have believed her. How could I? Reading her words I still couldn’t quite believe it. But something was clearly wrong.
I wish she would have called.
* * * * *
What happens next? Read the next part of the story here.
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