The Last Phone Call
If you only you knew what was coming, maybe you wouldn’t have left as you did. Maybe you would have known better than to answer my phone call. But you didn’t know what was going to happen. You didn’t know better. You left me that day. Ran out of our house in a fit of frustration all over a lost job and built up bills. You said you needed air and took the car. I was worried like any girlfriend should be. I called your phone hoping you would come home but you didn’t answer. I waited anxiously for you to pull in the driveway, checking out the front window every few minutes. I remember telling myself to relax and that you were fine. You would be home soon. Suddenly my phone rings. But it wasn’t you. I answered. “Hello, is this Lidia Evans? We need you to come to the station as soon as possible.” They found you at an intersection a few blocks away. You had been hit by another driver. “He had a stop sign. I thought he was going to stop” he told the policemen. They say you had tried to answer your phone but it must have fallen under your seat, where it was later found after your body was pulled from our car. They think you ran the sign as you tried to retrieve it. I was the first person they were able to contact because it was my name across the screen in a missed call notification. I was told not to worry. That the car had been totaled in an instant and you didn’t suffer. But it was that same instant that took you away from me forever. Your mom asked me to speak at your funeral tomorrow. She really believes you loved me and she knows you are my world… you were my world. If only I didn’t call. If only you didn’t try to answer.