Page 95 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

“I dream about you too,” I say. “And . . .” It’s now or never. “Therein lies the problem.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “The problem?”

I look over my shoulder, ensuring I won’t be overheard. If management found out I was turning away paying customers, I’d definitely get fired. “I can’t take your calls anymore.”

“Oh,” he says, “Are you . . . quitting?”

“No . . . yes . . . I don’t know,” I confess, biting into my lip. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated,” he states. It’s not a question.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

Another pause. “Did I do something wrong? Did I . . . make you feel uncomfortable?”

“No! No, you didn’t. It’s not that. Actually it’s the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

I take a big breath. “You’re not like the others. There’s something about you, when you call. Like I’ve known you my whole life.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line.

“And that’s a problem, because I’m falling in love with someone in real life. With any other caller it’s just work, but with you—it’s emotional. It’s real. And I can’t . . . It feels like cheating.”

Another long silence fills the space between us. Have I’ve misread everything that’s happened between us?

“Your voice . . .” he says quietly. “It sounds like music.”

For the second time today, tears fill my eyes. I look up to try to keep them contained.

“It reminds me of someone I knew a long, long time ago.”

I drop my forehead onto my desk, fighting the urge to sob. Idomean something to him. Whatever this is between us, I’m not alone—he wanted to love me too.

“This person,” I ask. “Were they someone you lost?”

He sighs into the speaker and my heart aches. “It feels as though I lose her every day. Every time I wake up and realize she’s not here, I feel like it’s happening all over again.”

I bite my lip. “I’m so sorry.”

“I used to be able to drown it out. Drinking, drugs, girls, partying . . . but lately, I just can’t. The only thing that’s helped . . . is you.”

I’m an awful person. Here is this poor broken-hearted man who simply wants to talk to me because I remind him of his long-lost love, and I’m about to make him lose someone else as well.

“Listen, Baby, I—” I take a deep breath.

“We can’t talk anymore,” he cuts me off.

“No.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “No, no, don’t be sorry. It’s my fault, not yours.”

“You know, it’s funny. I called the first time for fun, trying to take the edge off of being alone. I didn’t realize how quickly I’d fall for a stranger,” he admits. “I guess it just goes to show how desperate I was for an honest conversation with someone. Maybe . . . maybe I need to have more honest conversations with the people who are already in my life.”

“I know it doesn’t help, but I looked forward to our calls. I . . . if my life was different, I would’ve one day asked to meet you in person. Maybe this would’ve transcended the phone lines.”

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