On the bed of her humid bedroom, the cellular phone began ringing âTake Me Out To The Ball Game,â and Denise Stone knew instantly that a terrible argument was coming. She almost through the phone out the window.
Denise didnât need to be psychic to know what was going to happen. She didnât need a fortune tellerâs crystal ball to know exactly who the caller was, nor did she have a crystal ball in her grasp. To her untrained eyes, the lines in her palm revealed nothing of the caller, and she didnât dream about a telephone last night.
Her former boyfriend had been harassing her for the past week, however, and after spending the previous night avoiding his calls, on the verge of tears as he called her every dirty name in the book when she did answer, then apologizing and begging she take him back, Denise knew he would be back at it in the morning. She dreaded the summoning of her phone now, knowing exactly who it would be, and wanting him only to leave her the hell alone.
Denise is an only child, and her father was killed in motorcycle accident when she was three years old. She felt left alone to defend herself against Ryanâs onslaught. What frightened her the most was one simple thing. Eventually she was going to give in and take him. Theyâd been down this road many times, and she always took him back. Ryan was the only boyfriend she ever knew. Ryan was the first boy she liked, the first boy she kissed, the first boy she slept with and the first boy she loved. Now he was just another boy she despised, although she couldnât blame him for not giving up. She shouldâve left him along time ago.
Last night, just after two in the morning, Ryan had stopped calling for the night, and Denise was finally able to get some sleep. Though sleep last night had been horrible, plagued with horrible nightmares, in which Ryan stalked her to the ends of the world, then raped and killed her. She woke shivering, on the brink of hysteria. She was positive Ryan was lurking under the bed. In the closet. Somewhere.
Now she stared at the cellular phone, willing âTake Me Out To The Ball Gameâ to stop playing, but it wouldnât. Ryan never gave up easily.
Esther, Deniseâs cat, also sensed something horrible in the ring. Most likely the horrible reaction it gave her master. The cat moved between her legs, purring, pleading with Denise to leave the phone be. She scratched the cat behind its ears. The phone continued on.
Denise had a great relationship with Esther, simply because Esther wasnât like most cats. She was black and white, and although she didnât what breed her cat was, she knew the cat itself was different. It could sense what humans were good, and which were bad. Esther would be seven years old this August, and sheâs hated Ryan since day number one. Denise stopped scratching the cat and looked at the phone again. She saw Ryanâs name and number on the Caller ID.
Esther quickly turned off the purr machine and walked away from her master. The cat was smart enough to know Denise was giving in.
After two and half minutes of âTake Me Out To The Ball Game,â Denise finally gave in to the unavoidable and answered the phone.
The caller was Ryan, of course. He was at home, laying in his bed, reminiscing about the good times they had. He listened to her while staring at Esther. Estherâs return glance looked humanly pissed.
As Denise listened closely to every word he spoke, Esther sprang onto the bed and rested her furry black head with white ears in her lap. She purred loudly, trying to drown out Ryanâs words, causing Denise to giggle in her closed hands. Esther had so many human qualities, it was scary.
Ryan stopped speaking. For a moment she was numb and confused, unable to think of anything to say. The deadly silence of the rest of the house was crushing, making it even harder to come up with conversation. Denise was fighting back tears, trying to swallow the lump in her throat, wondered if she could trust him again.
Normally, Denise would have broke down, taken him back with open arms, inviting him over to patch things up. She reached back into her heart, dug as deep as she could, and could find no love for Ryan remaining. It sucked the carcass of her heart clean. And with that thought, the tears came harder than before. It truly was over. She regret answering the phone more than ever, knowing there were no more words left, almost nothing left to cry about, no reason to take him back. Answering the phone gave Ryan a hope that no longer existed.
Esther moved her face up to Deniseâs mouth. The cat licked her chin, then moved her head into Deniseâs hand, demanding to be pet. She gladly obliged. If Ryan was in her room, the cat would be scratching his eyes out.
She finally broke the agonizing silence after a minute and a half, showing not a single trace of sadness in her voice. Before Denise could tell him how she felt, she needed to take a deep breath and close her eyes. âRyan, listen, Iâm sorry,â she said. She felt totally unprepared for this moment, and the right words escaped her hurting mind. He was breathing heavily on the other line, however, and perhaps he could sense what was about to be said to him.
She bit her lower lip and tried to force the right words into her mind. As long as he was still on the line, there was a small chance they could get back together. She needed to find the words, make them short and sweet, and for Christâs sake end it. She left the bed, walked to the window, pulled open the shades and inhaled the cool morning air as if to make things easier.
Make it short and quick, she told herself.