The Phone Call

“I’m tired of living, Annie.”

I stared at my screen, checking if I got the name right. Yep, I was talking to Dave indeed. I brought the phone to my ear once more.

“What are you going on about, Dave? We were just talking about our plans to-”

“I know.” His voice was heavy with a sadness I have never heard before. “But the truth is, I have long been tired of my life and I’ve just been wanting to die.”

I stared blankly out my window in disbelief. This was Dave. THE put-together Dave. THE Dave everyone looked up to, since he graduated valedictorian in class. THE multi-awarded Dave for his exemplary research papers. THE Dave I’ve always secretly wanted to be mine, but never could have, because he was dedicated to just one thing: his work.

“I can’t keep up with this, Annie. I feel like such a fraud. I don’t know what to do.”

I took a deep breath and tried to remember the tips that friend of mine who worked at the suicide hotline told me. “When did you begin feeling like this?”

There was a pause and a sigh from the other line. “Around 9-10 years ago, really. Life just didn’t seem meaningful, but I pressed on in hopes I would find that meaning. I’ve worked and worked, but still nothing…”

My eyes widened at remembering. 9-10 years ago. I remember that night well. It was the night he won a national award and had to give his first thank you speech. It was also the night he rejected me.

“So… are you having thoughts of suicide?”

“Yes.” I heard a shifting from the other line. “I have considered it and I am prepared to do it.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my shaking hands. “Well, have you considered the means of how you’d do it?”

His reply was fast. “Overdose on sleeping pills.” I heard the rattle of a full bottle. “Got them here, even.”

I gulped. There were 3 questions you were supposed to ask that would supposedly help bring relief between the suicide caller and you: Have you thought about how you’d do it? Do you have what you need to do it? And…

“Have you thought about when you would do it?” I heard the crack in my voice, but tried to keep calm.

There was a long pause, and I had to steel myself to not scream. After a minute or so, he spoke up again. “6 months from now.”

I felt at once a relief and a terror. At least he wasn’t planning on doing it while in call, but-

“Annie, I’m sorry.”

I stopped. “What’s that?”

“I’m sorry, Annie. I didn’t choose you that day. I regret it every day. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to change the past, but know that I regret it so.”

I leaned back as the phone slipped from my hand and I looked down at the gold ring on my ring finger. I heard a click from the floor as the call disconnected, and felt the slow drops of tears on my cheeks. I sobbed harder.

–

First written April 15, 2018.
#190