One of Us, Now
by Kevin H. Robnett
It's late.
The day is over,
supper eaten,
the dishes washed and
put away.
Nothing on the t.v.
that interests him.
Nothing in the small apartment
that interests him.
Not the racing magazines,
or the bike's clogged carburetor.
Just the phone.
It sits there, on the desk.
An ugly green color that
clashes with the drapes.
He stares at it for awhile,
hoping it would ring and
end his dilemma.
No such luck.
He wants to reach for it,
get up off the sofa and go to it,
dial the number he has
written on his heart.
But what if he's not there?
What if he's out,
or...occupied,
or has an 'old' friend over,
or out chasing an Immortal?
The endless ringing would kill him.
As he waited for someone to answer.
Waited forever, now that he
would live forever.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The young man tosses on the sofa,
torn between the options.
He's been alone before,
not very long ago.
But that had been a fairy tale.
Alive with the knowledge he
couldn't die,
full of dreams and longings
and only a little sorrow.
He traveled the globe,
eventually returning to the place
his heart longed for.
And warmed himself by the fire once more.
This time was different.
He was stupid, and reckless,
and in an instant
saw his whole life evaporate.
Everything gone.
And learning the dangers of
staying.
This mistake cost him everything,
his life,
his friends,
even his name.
So now he is
somewhere else,
someone else.
And missing what he
left behind.
He glares at the phone,
as if it was at fault.
As if the cheap plastic
could take the burden
away from him.
It's too much.
He reaches out for it,
rising from the sofa,
the longing, the need
overpowering his hesitation,
his fears.
The loneliness is too much.
The emptiness too great.
Is this what my life will be like?
For ten, twenty years?
Forever?
That scares him the most.
He needs to hear the voice,
listen to the laughter,
feel for a moment
he is home. And loved.
The dial tone echoes in his ear
before he dials each digit,
stopping at the last one,
his finger poised.
The fears overwhelm the need
and he stops.
One button left.
Gently, he cradles the receiver,
trying not to shake,
knowing that another night will pass,
and he will do nothing.
Just sit and stare at the phone,
wishing it would ring.
Needing it to ring.
Is this what my life will be like?
The End.
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