The Phone Call

The next day I did feel much better, and the day after that.   I didn't forget about the email but I got busy with my own life and put it out of my thoughts.  Two weeks went by, or thereabouts.  I was at a hockey game with my husband when I got a phone call.  I didn't recognize the number so I ignored it. 

An hour or so later I went to the bathroom and saw that I had a voice mail.  It was Mark's wife.  She wasn't calling from her usual number, which is why I hadn't picked up. 

"Hi, Sam, this is Carly.  I need you to call me back as soon as you get this.  My cell phone is dead so just call the hospital and ask for me."  She left the number.  That was the totality of the voice mail. 

Hospital.  That pretty much told me everything I needed to know.  I called her back anyway.  When the nurse put her on the line I said, "is he alive?" 

"For now."  She sounded angry. "If he survives, I just might kill him myself."

"What the hell did he do?"

"He tried to hang himself from the curtain rod in the spare room.  The idiot didn't do his research properly.  The rod was only held up with a couple plastic couplings so it collapsed under his weight.  I hear this loud crash and rush upstairs to find him lying on the floor in a heap of winter clothes pulling a belt off his neck -"  her voice broke.  "I don't understand what's wrong with him."

"I wish I knew."

"I think you do know something and you're not telling me.  You never did tell me why you called."

"I got an email.  It was from a weird address.  I thought it might have been from him, but he swore it wasn't so, there wasn't much I could do.  I didn't have any proof that it was from him."

"That's why you told me to watch him?"

"Yeah. He said it wasn't from him, but I thought he was lying."

"What did the email say?"

"Why don't you ask him?  I don't want to get into it."

"Seriously?  You know he isn't going to tell me anything."

"I don't know that.  Maybe he'll admit something to you.  Maybe he'll admit that he sent the letter.  I can't pry it out of him any better than you can."

She sighed loudly.  "I think you can.  I think you're the only person who even has a shot of getting the truth out of him."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because he's been making a major effort to keep things from me lately.  I suspected he was having an affair, but now this.  I don't know anymore.  I kept trying to catch him so I had proof, that way I could file for a divorce but he's pretty good at keeping his secrets.  I haven't been able to catch him red handed."

"Maybe this is your fault.  Maybe he's grown tired of being watched all the time.  Ever think of that?  I doubt he was having an affair.  He probably just got sick of you being the hall monitor.  If you want him to be happy you have to let him be happy.  Quit treating him like a child."

"Thank you, Dr. Phil.  You could be right, but I doubt it.  There's something going on with him that he won't tell me, but maybe he will tell you."

Someone knocked on the bathroom door.

"I have to go, someone needs the bathroom." 

"Wait, Sam, would you fly up and see us?  Try to talk to him in person?  I'll buy you a ticket."

The knocking on the door grew louder and someone hollered, "I've been waiting out here for nearly twenty minutes.  Are you alright in there?"

"Yes, I am, I'll be right out.  Sorry!"  I quickly said into the phone, "Fine, I'll try to see if I can make it.  It's going to be tough to get time off but if I can I will."

"I have a sour taste in my mouth about this Sam.  I really didn't want to have to ask you.  It pisses me off that my own husband won't talk to me.  I feel -"

"It's going to be fine Carly."  I tried to reassure her.  "I'll zip in, save the day and fly away.  Got to go, bye!"

I hung up.  I opened the bathroom door and slunk by in shame, not looking up at the glowering faces of the the long line waiting by the door.