Ring

Ring

Ring

. . .

Ring

Ring

Ring

. . .

Ring

Ring

Ring

. . .

Ring

Ring

Ring

“Hello? Helll-lllow?

“Ah, I missed you, girl.”

“Huh? Who is this?”

“This is your dad.”

My breath catches in my throat. I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at the screen.

+777

I choke, tears coming fast and angry, “What type of sick joke is this?” I pull my brows together as lava-hot tears track down my pale face.

“Rylee-bug,” he says.

“Prove it,” I say hatefully.

He takes a deep breath, “I have your hands tattooed on my side. Where you use to hold me when you were a little baby.”

“When you got a new bike, Rylee, I told y’all to stand outside. I went inside- and rode it out of the house, girl. I crashed in the monkey grass and bent the new wheel.”

I wait, listening to his voice. “I played Gorilla with you in the tent we made. I got on my hands and knees and made a monkey sound. You squealed and ran as I chased you. Then I was a nice monkey, Rylee. I bear hugged you.”

I cover my mouth, tears pooling. He continues, “You use to ask to make my coffee. Remember? I would pick you up, put you on the counter and you would put the filter in, pour the ground, and then watch it pour while I ate breakfast.”

“When we went out to the bus,” he paused, I thought I heard an angel crying. “We went out to the bus and I would kneel, I would hug you tight, right before the bus stopped. Then I would tell you to have a good day. And you would.”

I cry louder, bawling into the phone as I remember it all now. But he doesn’t stop. I don’t want him to stop. “Then the time you had a school project. I was standing on the first row of the auditorium without a chair, haha. No one would give a man like me a chair. I let the ladies sit. And when you were done singing- I clapped the loudest and whistled. I yelled your name, girl. Then you came up to me, I told you how good you did. Remember?”

He stops suddenly. I breathe into the silence, begging him to say more. To remind me.

“…Do you believe me now? It isn’t a joke, girl. I’m here now. I’m here,” he whispers.

“And there was the day… Christmas. When you got me my first phone,” I say.

“The one where you pay,” we say together, laughing quietly.

“I loved it so much,” I whisper, my bottom lip quivers. “I was so happy. I was happy. It was Christmas… And then—“

I can’t finish the sentence. Because three or four months later I was at his funeral. The realization sinks in.

It’s not him.

“Rylee? Rylee? Are you okay?” Ravi’s voice comes through the bedroom door that he knocks on frantically. “Answer me. Now.”

I shake, letting the phone drop to the floor. At the sound of shattering, Ravi pushes through the door, splitting the lock. He looks around wide-eyed, finding me bunched on the floor beside the bed. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close as I cry like a baby. Clinging to his shirt like a disease.

“Ravi, he’s gone,” I say into his shoulder, the tears soaking into him as we sit on the floor, wrapped together. Ravi’s tears pool as he kisses my forehead.

“I know, honey. I know, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” he whispers, kissing me again.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

He’s use to my episodes, where I believe I might see my dad again. He’s use to giving me his shoulder and letting me cry. And so I thank him for being there whenever I need him. I thank him for being understanding, giving me time, and being the first to support me. I thank him for loving me for me. And I thank him for so much more, words can’t express. But these three words get pretty close; I love you. 🖤