Last Phone Call

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Fly on the Wall.”

There is a question I have always had that I can only be answered with a stare.  It goes back to a phone call I received one Sunday night a long time ago.  27 years is a significant stretch of time to wonder what happened after the headset was put down.  My knowing now what followed in the days afterwards, but what about the hours afterwards?

I still am haunted by the sound of her voice on the phone.  We’d spent the afternoon together, or at least as much as was possible with others walking in and out of the room.  “Just checking on things!”  Sure there were plenty of things that two teenagers could get into trouble doing, but this wasn’t the place for if; certainly not the time.

Later on that evening the phone rang.  There was no rush to get it from my family, they just let me go get it.  Patre’s voice was about as quiet as I had ever heard it.  It wasn’t a whisper, just tired.  My brain knows it wasn’t hours, but my dreams still say it was.  But the reality of that hour long talk have affected me deeply.

We talked about love, we talked about fear, we talked about what the world would be like when we both had our Driver’s Licences!  It eventually got to the point where she was told to hang up the phone, it was time to get some sleep.  I never heard her voice again.

She had needed to be medically placed in a coma so she didn’t fight the breathing tube.  Eventually her organs would shut down from the Toxic Shock coursing through her veins.  She died two weeks later.

The thing I wonder about is how she was doing during that phone call?  Was she fighting others in some attempt to make me feel safe?  Being the fly on the wall could help answer some of that.  There are two pictures I have in my mind of her.  The first being her running up to me after some school event and just giving me a big hug.  She was that happy to see me, The smile.  The other is only one that exists in my imagination, what her face looked like after that phone call.  I know there was pain, a tube running by her nose delivering oxygen; but I still hope she had that smile.  Even for a second…I would love to be a fly on the wall to know.

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