One-Sided Stories: Secrets Unravel on the Other End of the Line

Wait... slow down. What do you mean you sold it? The car? Okay... fine, you always hated that stupid lease. But... no. No. What do you mean... everything? Leo, I’m listening. I am. But you’re not making any sense. You can’t just... liquidate your entire life over a weekend. That’s not a thing. Where are you even calling from? It sounds like you’re outside. The corner of Fifth and Main. Okay. And what’s in the bag you’re holding? Don't... don't tell me it's what I think it is. Leo, this isn't some movie.

You can't just walk into a bank, pull out forty-seven thousand dollars in cash, and expect to solve your problems. That’s... that’s not how money works. That’s not how people work. Don’t you dare say it’s not my problem. You made it my problem the second you called me instead of your sister. Does she even know? Of course she doesn't. What about your apartment? The lease isn't up until September. What about your job? You... you just walked out? You left a note? A NOTE? What are you, a character in a nineteen-forties novel?

People don't just leave notes and disappear to a bus station. No. No, I’m not yelling. I’m not yelling. I’m just... trying to understand the physics of this. You can't just... delete yourself. There are all these threads connected to you, Leo. To your job, to your landlord... to me. You can't just cut them all and not expect everything to unravel. You sound so calm. That’s the part that’s scaring me. You’ve thought this through, haven't you. This isn't an impulse. This is a plan. Oh, God.

You’re not running to a new life, are you. There’s no plan for what comes next. You’re just... running from this one. It’s the quiet. Isn’t it. Since... since last year. The house is just... too quiet now. The silence is just too loud. And you think if you just keep moving, you can outrun it. You think the sound of a bus engine is going to be enough to drown it out. It won’t be. Okay. Okay. Don't go to the bus station. Not yet. Just... stay on the corner. The diner... are you near the diner on Elm?

The one with the terrible coffee and the sticky tables? Yeah. I know the one. Go inside. Get a booth by the window so you can see me pull up. I’m ten minutes away. And don't you dare move from that spot. We'll drink terrible coffee together.