Justin sat in a wooden chair in his kitchen. A phone number sat on the table in front of him. He couldn’t believe that it had been so easy. Someone who was so easy to find had to be WANTING to be found.
He tapped his finger on the edge of the white paper, and then traced the last four digits with his pen. What would he say if JC picked up the phone?
“Why didn’t I think about this earlier?” he asked himself in a mumble as he gave the cordless a spin, and watched it until it fell off the table. He caught it in his right hand, and looked intently at the numbers. “If only this could be easy.”
“Hey, JC, how’ve you been? How’s your daughter? Good... glad to hear it... So, would you forgive me for saying the awful things that I said all those years back? I mean, come on, JC... it was like, forever ago.”
But he knew well enough that something so cruel wasn’t healed by time. A fight like the two of them had had would never go away. Not in Justin’s heart, anyway. Had JC really forgotten about him? Had he forgotten about the times when they were on the road with the rest of the guys... just having the times of their lives?
Still, he had no clue what to say to the man that had once been his best friend... all those years back. He supposed that he could wing it, but what if he said the wrong thing? What if JC hung up, changed his phone number, his name... everything, to make sure that he’d never be found again?
What if he missed the only chance he’d ever have just because he couldn’t dial a stupid number?
His eyebrows furrowed, and his baby blues narrowed as he looked back and forth from the number to the phone, punching each button with determination... but when he got to that last number, his finger stopped. Something was preventing him from making the call. Maybe it was meant to be. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to be in JC’s life anymore. Fate...
Or maybe he was chicken. A big, fat, wimp.
With that, he pressed that last number and held it down until he heard the beep. He held the phone to his ear, and drew in a breath, biting his lip so hard that he almost drew blood. With each ring, his heart beat faster.
Beep.
“Hi, You’ve reached Josh and Angel... and unfortunately, we’re not home right now. You could call back later, or you could leave your name or number, and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can.”
Beep.
Quickly, he turned off the phone, and almost threw it down on the table. Oh, God... it was really him. He was living way up there in the middle of nowhere with Angel. It was actually he.
Justin took a deep, shaky breath. It was weird to hear JC’s voice after all that time. Now that he knew it was JC’s number, could he really call back? Deep down, he’d been praying that someone would pick up the phone, he’d ask for JC, and they’d say that he had the wrong number. The problem would be solved... JC would be unreachable.
No such luck.
Suddenly, he panicked. What if JC had caller-ID? He put his hands over his face, and groaned. “Way to go, dumb ass. Now he’s going to KNOW that it was you who called. You messed up without even saying a word to the man.”
All weekend, JC and Angel stayed at the hotel. JC had called the insurance company, but like insurance companies always were, they were slow. He had to wait until Monday to even get an appointment to assess the damage. After calling around, he finally found someone to come in to the store so he could make it on time.
It was around two o’clock, Monday afternoon when he opened the door to his house, and stepped inside for the third time since he and Angel had left the night of the flooding. Once, he’d gone back to pick up a few things, and the second time, he’d stopped by to survey the damage, so that he’d know exactly what the insurance company was looking at.
Sitting on the table, right next to the phone, was his answering machine... and the light was blinking twice. He went over and pressed the button.
Beep. “Saturday, September ninth, Nine twenty-six AM.”
“Hi, JC, it’s mom. I’ve been calling all morning. Where are you two? Give me a call back so I won’t worry.”
Beep. Beep. “Saturday, September ninth, three forty-one PM.”
All he heard was dead air, followed by the sound of a disconnection.
Beep.
“Hmm.” JC pondered as he brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. His eyes fell on the caller ID. “What in the...” It was blank. He pressed a few buttons, but nothing happened. He was just about to pick it up and analyze it, when a large drop of water hit in on the top of his head. He looked up to see a water stain on his ceiling. Right before he stepped away, another drop landed on the left side of his forehead. “Ugh…” he groaned.
The doorbell rang and he spun around, wiping the drop of water with the back of his hand. He sloshed through the muddied floor, and swung the door open. A familiar face filled his vision.
The woman smiled. “Hi, my name is Laura, and I’m from...” she looked up at him. “Have we met?”
JC squinted his eyes and studied her features. “I think so... oh, yeah... you came into my music store about a week ago. Remember? I’m Josh, the owner of Chords.”
Her smile broadened. “Yes! Now I remember. It’s nice to see you again.” She paused while he nodded and let her into the house. “Don’t you think it’s kinda weird that we ran into each other like this?” she wondered as she looked around JC’s waterlogged house. “Wow, this is worse than I’d expected. I’m just curious, Josh, what year was this house built?
“In the seventies, why?”
Laura sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
Chapter 8
Not A Day Goes By
JC {Fiction}
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I'll Never Stop {Fiction}
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