The Things He Didn’t Know By Michael Webb

The sound of his phone ringing was distant, and kind of hollow. It was a very long distance call. He picked up, sounding a little out of breath. “Hello?” “Hey, it’s me.” “Hey!” He tried to brighten when he heard who it was. It didn’t sound real. “I need a favor. Again.” He sounded crestfallen. “Really? They keep calling?” “Uh huh.” I tried to add emotion to my voice, which wasn’t hard. “I need another two hundred.” He sighed. “I can’t keep doing this, you know. I’ve almost used up that whole credit card.” “I know, I so appreciate it. I wouldn’t ask if we didn’t need it.” “Send it to the same place?” “Yeah.” My heart pounded. Was he going to do it? I felt a solid, responding thump, lower in my abdomen. He sighed again. “OK. Let me hang up and call Western Union.” “Ok, thanks! I’ll pay you back! I love you!” “Love you, too,” he said resignedly, and disconnected. I had dumped him almost a year ago, taking off for Hawaii winding up pregnant and broke when Jonathan got laid off and started moving meth to keep the refrigerator full. Then he started using, and then things got tight, and then I’m calling an old boyfriend, begging for him to wire me money. He didn’t know about the baby. He didn’t know I wasn’t coming back. He didn’t know I couldn’t pay him. He didn’t know I didn’t love him.

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