It was sometime in the early hours of the morning that her phone rang. Struggling out of sleep, she looked at the name on the display. When she realised who it was, she answered immediately.
“Babe? I’ve had enough of this shit. I’m going, and I’m taking the money.” She listened to him ranting about how unfairly he had been treated, already detaching herself from him, knowing that soon he would be gone and she couldn’t go with him. “Babe? Are you there?”
“If you go, I don’t want to hear from you again.” She was shocked at how clinical she sounded. Maybe she wasn’t awake yet. Maybe this was all, in fact, a dream. This man, who she was supposed to be in love with, was leaving, disappearing with his employer’s money, and she was washing her hands of him entirely. How could it possibly be this black and white?
“Babe?” He sounded unsure now. Maybe he wouldn’t go after all. Maybe he’d think better of it. There was nothing left to say. She heard a click, then the purring of the dead line. He was gone. She turned her phone off – tomorrow was going to be hell.
(Originally published elsewhere in February 2007)