Phone Calls
Chapter 4: Don't Drift Away
For one whole week Jack managed not to call Chloe. Unfortunately he had not done that through sheer will. He had almost been spotted and had had no choice but to take off. He had spent 7 days traveling around Mexico, often by foot and phones were not readily available. When he was finally far enough away that he felt safe he asked himself if it was a coincidence that he was almost spotted the day after his voice went over the phone lines or if the calls had been tracked.
That led to another three days of not calling. It was too much of a risk, not just for him, but for Chloe. If someone confirmed he was alive, if they traced the calls and realized he had been calling her for weeks she would certainly be a target. No, the phone calls, had to stop, they were too risky.
But he couldn't stand the thought of never contacting Chloe again. He knew her—knew how insecure she was. If he never called again she would assume he didn't care about her. Maybe that was the best—if she thought that than she could forget about him and move on with her life. But, as selfish as it may be, he couldn't let her think that, couldn't let her drift away like everything else had.
So he decided he would have to find a new way to contact her. And then luck, or fate, or hell pure chance stepped in, and he decided to take a stroll around the market in town. And there is sat on one of the booths. The sun's rays beat down, the light bending and blinding him.
He had no idea why he wanted to buy it for her. Maybe it was the light—the way it seemed to jump out and encircle him in warmth. Maybe it was the way it bent the light—changing it, it was no longer a perfect ray, but it was still shining, still good and real and pure.
He spent the night staring at a computer trying to write a message. Couldn't be too personal—in case it was intercepted by the wrong person, but it had to say something didn't it. Something important—something….poetic.
The poem seemed to jump in his head. He had read it in college—hadn't really gotten it—the whole death and darkness is the only guarantee we have, but he certainly got it now. The last few years had been almost nothing but death and darkness.
Except Chloe. She wasn't dark—she was innocent and young and pure and real. She was the spring. He could never keep her, but he could dream of her.