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Like when I called her that first night, a few lines of text on the way home not being nearly enough for me, I had a tumbler in one hand and my phone in the other. Only now the tumbler had vodka with the added danger of an energy drink. A glowing green cocktail called Vodka Gears that my friend had introduced me to in college. I tried not to drink it much these days, it being bad for my health and all, but I saved it for when I really needed it, and now was one of those times.
I took another sip, continually hitting redial with my nearly cramped finger.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
Four.
And then I heard, for what seemed like the millionth time, Kora's beautiful voice telling me she can't answer the phone and to please leave a message and she would get right back to me. If I had been able to talk to her, I'd have suggested that she rethink that last part of the message, since it clearly wasn’t something she intended to do.
I’d also let her know that I loved her madly and would never let her go. Or at least never get over her.
It had taken a while to come to that realization, but it was true. I had looked at it every possible way and there was no real alternative. I was with Kora or I suffered from terminal heartbreak.
I dialed again, killing the call almost immediately, remembering that I had just called literally seconds before. I guess some things really can't change. No matter how much you might wish they could.
I took another sip of Vodka Gears and tried to relax. It wouldn't do anyone any good if I'd had a heart attack. Most people would have said I was too young, with my whole life ahead of me, but bad tickers ran in my dad's side of the family as much as towering height and dashing good looks.
My Uncle Rory, who actually drank less than I did, went through a massive coronary embolism when he was 26. He never touched alcohol again. In some ways I wished I shared his discipline. Not the belts to the bare ass I later discovered grandpa had handed out to his kids like candy mints but the willpower to break a habit you've carried for eleven years. I raised a toast to Uncle Rory, wherever he may be. We had lost touch over the years.
The phone rang suddenly and I jerked in surprise. Part of me, the eternal optimist part that all the other parts wanted to beat up, really hoped that it was Kora.
"Dad?" I said, that being almost as much of a surprise.
"Hey, son," dad said, seeming slightly surprised that I had picked up.
"How are you?" I asked, not expecting him to call.
He had never been one to like talking on the phone, and I wasn’t exactly that type either, I suppose getting that from him. But we had been making some in roads lately due to dealing with grandpa’s estate and our business plans. It had helped us to form a closer bond.
"Better than expected, honestly. All I need is for your mother to come back and I will have life back exactly the way I like it."
I hadn't really thought about that. I thought I was upset about Kora. Dad had actually found the love of his life, even married her and still lost her and not just because she was mad about something he had done. I could still hope that Kora would call. He had no such hope with mom.
"How are things with you?" he asked, after I didn’t respond to what he had said.
I tried to never encourage his false delusions about my mom returning from the grave. I knew that logically he knew it couldn’t happen. But it seemed to make him feel better to pretend or hope.
"Wow, let's see," I said, looking for a good place to start. "I have billions of dollars I never asked for and never really earned, a house so big you need a map and compass to get from the bedrooms to the kitchen and giant hole where my heart should be. On the upside, I still have my record collection and this sweet record player grandpa left me. Lou, Steven and Robert are really helping me through."
"Lou, Steven and Robert?"
"Reed, Morrissey and Smith," I said.
"Well, now, there's a supergroup!" dad said, with a laugh.
I had forgotten how funny he could be.
"I can't disagree," I said.
"What have you got on now?"
"Emperor," I said.
"Can't say I'm familiar," dad said, trying to be nice.
I held the phone out towards the speaker so he could hear a bit.
"The track is called 'With Strength I Burn,'" I said.
"Are you feeling okay, son?" dad asked, sounding concerned.
"Do you remember Kora?" I asked.
