Chapter 64 Unanswered Calls
Annabel felt the physical weight of her promise to Victoria. In the wing of the mansion that was now hers, she sat on the edge of the big strange bed.
As he guided her to the room Carson's touch had served as a silent source of solace.
Despite its beauty, the room felt chilly like a gilded cage that was about to close. The tiny screen of her phone, a lighthouse of the world beyond these walls, was what Annabel reached for.
She hovered her thumb over the call button as she saw Fred's contact name. She needed to hear his voice, she knew he was a friend she could rely on.
She put the phone to her ear and pressed the button. The call went straight to his voicemail even though it had connected.
“This is Fred.”He spoke in an overly upbeat tone “Leave a message and I'll get back to you.”
It sounded like a betrayal. She didn't leave a message before hanging up. She gave it another go. No response. A third attempt was made. The outcome was the same.
She felt a knot of anxiety tighten.
“Why he was not responding. Is he okay?”She wondered.
She sent a short text.
Hi there. I wanted to drop in. Are you okay? she asked gazing at the screen and a response that never came.
The message was not delivered yet and remained as a single checkmark. It was deafeningly quiet on the other end. It was a novel form of loneliness.
An hour later she made another attempt. No response. After an hour she tried again. Nothing has changed. After four tries, her hands began to shake.
She emailed once more.
Give me a call when you receive this. I'm worried.
Slowly the hours went by. The mansion had a huge empty void and was silent. The thick Persian rugs engulfed her footsteps as she wandered through the hallways.
Though it was never him, her heart jumped every time her phone buzzed with a notification. A forgotten app update was the cause of the news alert. It hurt physically to see his name not there on her screen.
She entered what felt like a ballroom, the living room. She sat on a couch engulfed by a sea of soft cushions. She considered giving him another call but the memory of his voicemail was a harsh disagreeable one.
The sense of being trapped intensified as she returned to her room. She gazed out her window at the long driveway she had just walked up with Carson as well as the immaculately kept garden.
“What could be wrong?” she asked herself.
She returned to her texts but what if he was hurt?
Fred. Please just let me know that you’re alright.
The words sounded frantic like a cry to nothing.
Fred meanwhile sat on his bed in the quiet, empty apartment. The dim blue-white light from his phone screen had taken the place of the amber glow from his whiskey glass.
On the screen Annabel's name was a steady pulsing reminder of all the things he was trying to forget and everything he felt.
A new wave of chaos swept over him every time her name appeared on the screen. The initial call had reached him. Even his trembling hand had reached for the phone.
Then he stopped though.
The call had dropped and he had heard the dial tone fade. He was unable to respond. He wasn't ready. He was unsure of what to say.
He put his head in his hands and wondered “What would I even say? I'm so happy for you, congratulations?”
He knew those were lies. In a sense he was delighted for her. Her finding some measure of peace and the fact that she was no longer crying made him happy.
But a quiet misery that settled deep in his chest and caused a crushing pain overshadowed the joy.
It was the first text he saw. The question: Are you okay? felt like a blade twisting in a newly opened wound. He wasn't feeling well.
He was a rock, an anchor and he knew that rocks don’t move. As the world around it changes it remains motionless and unyielding. He had fulfilled his role as the person who was meant to be her friend.
He had returned her to Carson and the life she had always desired. She had a chance at happiness because of him. He had felt like an unselfish friend a hero.
He simply felt empty now though. The one person he wanted to be with and the one thing he most desired had been given away
All he needed was a moment. He required some room. He had to deal with the hurt. Before he saw the third and fourth texts he saw the second one.
He couldn't bring himself to respond even though every message was an entreaty and an indication of her concern. He knew his voice would crack. He didn't want to put her through the pain which he knew would eventually surface.
She had found happiness. The man she loved was with her. He'd fulfilled his obligation. The friend he had pledged to be had to be him. He had to remain silent.
He placed his phone on the bed next to him face down. His apartment was oppressively quiet. He went to the window and gazed at the pitch-black street below the lonesome streetlight glow reflected in his eyes.
Her name was the last thing he wanted to see on the screen. Her voice was something he didn't want to hear. Not just yet. He needed to figure out how to be alright.
He needed to figure out a way to lessen the sense of spacelessness in both his heart and his apartment. He needed to figure out how to live with reality.
Although he wasn't the main character, he was the protagonist of her tale. But for how long would that be anyway?