The first time it happened was three weeks after I'd left.
I placed the receiver back on the hook and lay in bed, thinking about who'd called but then hung up without saying a word.
The phone in Chino didn't have the luxury of caller id. But then I didn't need it. I knew who was on the other end of the line.
I lay there in the dark, sleep now a million miles away, and thought about the last time I'd spoken to her.
It hadn't gone well.
But then how could it?
She was hurting.
Hell, I was hurting!
But there was nothing else I could do. And so I'd told her to stop calling. It was only making things more difficult.
She didn't want me to be here.
I didn't want to be here.
But I didn't have any other choice.
I felt like this was my punishment for screwing up again.
'Screwing' – figures that was the word that came to mind, because that's exactly what had led me here.
Here, lying beside my 'best friend' who, although she's within arm's reach in the same bed, I'd never felt further from.
One stupid senseless fuck.
I was feeling disappointed and let down by the people around me so I'd happily accepted what Theresa had offered.
And it had led me back to Chino. To a life with little or no future, or at least a future that I didn't want. But I was out of options.
A few days later, it happened again.
She was never far from my thoughts and when the phone rang late at night, I always suspected that it was her.
But this time was different.
I could hear something other than empty air.
I kept the handset pressed firmly to my ear and listened intently.
I could hear the sound of waves.
I was almost certain that I knew exactly where she was sitting.
On the old lifeguard tower.
'Our place'.
We had a place.
But it didn't matter now.
It couldn't matter now.
And yet I still couldn't bring myself to hang up.
Hearing the waves in the distance made me feel closer to her, closer to everything that I was missing.
Every day I forced myself not to think about Newport, not to think about the Cohens, not to think about the pool house, not to think about her .…
It all hurt too much.
For once in my life, I'd had everything that I'd ever wanted.
A home with people that I cared about, and people who cared about me.
Marissa and I were finally on the same page.
And I'd destroyed it all in one night.
As the seconds ticked by, I wondered what was going through her mind.
She must hate me.
She should hate me.
And yet when Theresa's pregnancy had been confirmed, she had been prepared to stand by me, to try to work our way through it.
But it was better this way.
If she and I had stayed together, while I was trying to support my pregnant 'friend', then she would have been subjected to all sorts of ridicule from the 'polite' Newport society.
And I could just imagine what a field day Julie and Caleb would have had.
Didn't she realize that I was doing this for her as well as for Theresa?
It was the best I could do for both of them.
I was helping Theresa by being here with her, and I was helping Marissa by leaving her behind. She could move on with her life.
Meet someone new.
I squirm in bed as that idea comes to mind.
I hate the idea of her with anyone else.
But I'd had my chance. And I'd ruined it.
I was just about to hang up when I heard a small noise over the sounds of the ocean and my hand froze, listening for it again.
It had been barely a whimper. It sounded more like a small injured animal that a human being.
I listened intently.
And then I heard it again.
My heart contracted as I managed to discern the sound.
The sob was louder this time and the call was instantly disconnected.
I held the receiver still in my hand.
She was crying.
She was sobbing.
Because of me.
