The Call
Cool concrete pressed against Wes’ back. His hands shook. His heart still raced. He stared at the wall, motionless, while the silence in the room compressed around him.
What the hell just happened?
The sharp trill of the phone beside him broke the silence. The sudden noise made him jump.
“Fuck.”
Wes’ hands shook even harder. The blood pounded in his ears. His chest tightened at the memory of the harness.
Voss’s voice echoed in his head. Were you?
He forced himself to take a slow breath before reaching for the receiver.
“Hi Honey.”
“Daddy! Guess what Daddy? I had the best day today Daddy! I played with Mr. Pudds. I skipped today. And my best friend is Sally.”
“Sally? I thought Beth was your best friend?”
“Silly Daddy. That was last time we talked. Today, Sally is my best friend. My tummy hurts so I can’t watch TV tonight.”
“Your tummy hurts?”
“Yup. I’m so full. Mommy made the best dinner. Are you coming home today? Do you want me to ask her to put some in the fridge for you?”
Wes clenched his jaw. The plastic receiver creaked softly in his hand.
“Sweetie, you know Daddy loves you very much, right?”
“Ya, I know Daddy. Do you still think about Mr. Pudds? He really wants you to come home too. Mommy is always shouting at him. Mr. Pudds walks around the kitchen and meows and… and Mommy doesn’t like it. She gets annoyed.”
“Does Mr. Pudds still get his kibble at dinner time?”
“Mmmm… maybe! I dunno. I’m just a kid Daddy. I don’t pay attention to stuff like that. Are you coming home soon?”
Wes swallowed.
“Daddy’s trying real hard to come home.”
“I miss you Daddy.”
A tear rolled down Wes’ cheek. His voice caught in his throat.
“I miss you too. Can you do me a favour?”
“Ya. Well… probably. I can’t reach the top of the fridge, so it can’t be getting anything up high.”
A small laugh escaped him before disappearing just as quickly.
“No Honey, I know you can handle this one. I need you to be brave for me, ok?”
“Like strong? Mommy says I’m getting really strong from gymnastics.”
“Yeah. Something like that.” Wes took a measured breath. “And I need you to keep an eye on Mommy. Give her an extra hug if she seems sad.”
“She cries less when you’re here. Are you sure you can’t come home today? I think she’d like that.”
A gentle beep echoed through the line. Wes had thirty more seconds.
“I’d like that too, Sweetie. Listen, Daddy has important work to do, ok? So he has to get going. Daddy’s trying real hard to come home. Give Mommy a hug for me and take care of Mr. Pudds.”
“Ok Daddy! You’re my favourite.”
“I love you too, Sweetie. Goodnight.”
Wes placed the receiver back in its cradle.
Slowly, he traced the tattooed numbers on his wrist.
2008.
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Where the Light Is is a story about memory, guilt, identity, and what happens when we confuse self-erasure for love.
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