One-Sided Stories: Unraveling Secrets Through a Single Phone Call

I’m on Route Nine. Liam? Are you there? Oh, thank GOD. No, I’m… I'm the one who's not okay. I had to pull over, just past the old quarry entrance. My hands are shaking so bad I can barely hold the wheel. I saw him. No, not a him. I saw… you. Don't do that. Don't say my name like I'm a child who saw a monster under the bed. It was YOU. Standing on the shoulder. By that rusted-out sign for the diner that closed ten years ago. I know you're at home.

I know you're probably sitting on the couch with the game on. That's why this is so... wrong. It was you. The worn-out jeans with the rip in the left knee. The stupid gray beanie you refuse to throw away. He was just... standing there. In the pouring rain. Staring into the woods. What do you mean, what did he look like? He looked like you! But... empty. That's the only word for it. Like a photograph where the eyes have been cut out. It felt...

ancient. This isn't like that story you told me, where silence just means someone's thinking. This silence was... hungry. He turned his head when my headlights hit him, and I swear… the car just… went faster on its own. No, I'm not making this up! Why would I MAKE this up? Yes, I'm sure. I'm positive. He was wearing the jacket. The old denim one. The one with the little enamel pin on the collar. The astronaut. The one I got you for our first anniversary.

You... you always wear it on the right side. You said it was for luck. Liam. The pin was on the left. It was on the left lapel. I saw it. Clear as anything. When he turned... the light caught it. It was on the WRONG side. Like I was looking at a reflection. Like he was a... a mirror image. What? Hang on, what was that noise? It sounded like... a train. The 9:15 freight always shakes my windows when it goes by the quarry crossing. You can hear it from your apartment.

But you can't hear the whistle. Not that clearly. Not unless you're… Liam… the game’s not on tonight, is it?