I don't want to leave another one with the kind of car that I was driving.
This is all just a precaution.
Now that I'm away from Tyler, I'm probably pretty safe. No one, except for a few people who are not going to talk, knows that we were traveling together.
After I grab a little bit to eat, I head back to my room and go through my bags. I unpack most of the stuff and put it away in my walk-in closet. Then I pull out the SIM card.
Touching it makes my heart skip a beat.
I threw out my phone before I got on the plane, but I couldn't throw everything out. I kept the SIM card. I should have left it in California, but I didn't. I know that it might be my downfall, but it will also be my only connection to Tyler.
A lifeline.
I could not get rid of it.
I put it into another burner phone that I got and turn it on. I charge it and leave it.
Tyler knows this number and he may try to call. I don't want to say that I'm going to wait until he does, but I'm not going to stop him from trying to reach me.
Over the next couple of days, I keep checking that phone on occasion. I keep it charged and I keep it in the front drawer of my desk. No calls come in and a few more days later, I almost forget about it.
Almost.
Then, suddenly on Sunday, while taking a shower, the phone rings. At first, I don't recognize the sound.
The loudness of the rushing water surrounds me while I'm lost in my own thoughts. As soon as I turn off the faucet, it's as clear as a bell.
I run out of the shower without grabbing a towel. The tile floor becomes slick with the water running off of me and I have to catch myself right before I get to the carpet.
“Hello? Hello?” I ask, not even trying to hide my excitement.
There's somebody on the other end and he is not answering.
The number is unknown to me, but the fact that he's not replying makes me the most certain that it's Tyler.
“T-,” I start to say, but I stop myself. I can't say his name in case someone is listening.
If the cops had gotten to him and got him to call me, then they'll be able to make the connection between the two of us.
Would he do that? Would he turn me in?
I don't know the answer to that. I hope not, but I have to be careful. Besides, there's another possibility. They could have just gotten this number and called me.
I keep listening. I can hear him breathing. He's still not saying anything.
“Are you there?” I ask.
I hear a clicking sound that sounds like something you would make with your mouth.
“Please talk to me,” I plead. “Please say something.”
Another clicking sound. He's hesitating. He wants to, but he can't.
I have to tell him something. I have to tell him how much I miss him and how none of this should have happened.
“If you are there,” I say carefully, parsing my words. “Please call me back again. I need to talk to you. I need to explain–”
He hangs up.
I pull the phone away from my face and look at its blank screen.
Was that Tyler?
I lick my lips and realize that they are completely dry. My mouth is parched. I try to clear my throat, but I cough instead.
I'm still naked. The water that has dripped off of me has formed a puddle on top of the carpet, soaking all the way through. I rub my shoulders, my hands suddenly realizing exactly how cold I am.
Slowly, I make my way back to the bathroom and grab a towel off the rack. I wrap it tightly around me, praying that it will make everything okay. It warms me up a bit, but it doesn't take away my pain.
I should've said his name. I should've told him that I was sorry. I should've tried to explain. It doesn't matter if the cops would have come after me. Then at least he would know.
All of these thoughts and many others swirl around in my head. I keep trying to reconcile them with each other, but nothing makes sense.
Maybe that wasn't Tyler after all.
Maybe it was some creep calling me to breathe into the phone.
Maybe it was someone who didn't want to talk.
Maybe it was just a wrong number.
I slowly put my