The Phone Call
She
reached for a towel to dry her hands before she picked up the ringing
telephone.
“Hello,”
she said as she reached over to turn off the hot water running into the sink.
There was a lag and a crackle on the line and then,
“Mags,
sweetheart?” asked a British man’s voice.
“Hey,
Ronnie! Where are you guys?” responded the tall, lithe brunette.
“We’re
in Osaka
Her
face broke into a smile as she leaned up against the kitchen wall in her
apartment. They had been friends for about ten years, since she sang back-up on
his debut album. A few years later Ron had introduced her
to his new drummer, Vic, and they had fallen madly in
love. Ron had been best man at their
wedding almost five years ago. They were
the perfect couple for almost five years, but the stress of their careers had
taken a toll on their relationship and she had moved into her own place about
two months ago. The divorce would be final in another six weeks, and even though the marriage hadn’t worked
out, they were all still very close friends.
“Are
you taking good care of my soon to be ex-husband?” she asked.
“Well,
luv,” he began, “that’s why I’m calling.”
There
was a tone in his normally lilting voice she didn’t like.
“Pete
is coming by with the limo to take you to the airport so you can come on over.
You can pick up your tickets at the counter…”
She
slid down the wall and could see herself sitting on the floor in the reflection
of the sliding glass door. Something was terribly wrong.
“Ron,”
she interrupted, “what’s happened to Vic?”
“Sweetheart,
I don’t know how to tell you this…Vic collapsed after we played your song last
night and we had to bring him to hospital.” His voice was cracking with
emotion. She was suddenly aware of noises in the background, hospital noises.
“Ronnie…?”
she began, but couldn’t finish.
“I’m
so sorry, luv, but Vic had a massive heart attack and…” she could hear him
sobbing on the other end of a call from half way around the world. There were muffled
voices, but no one was talking to her. She
was stunned. This couldn’t be right, he was only thirty five and in great
shape. She sat staring at her own
reflection in the sliding glass door, unable to think, dazed. Time stood still.
“Mags?
It’s Lou.” Their road manager came on the line. “Sweetie, you’ve gotta come
over here and handle the legal stuff so we can bring Vic home. Baby, are you
there?”
“Yeah,
Lou, I’m here…” she choked out.
“The
consulate says you’ve gotta sign the release so we can bring the body home.”
“Oh
my god….Okay.” was all she could say.
Tears
were streaming down the face in the reflection in the sliding glass doors as
the silver stretch limo pulled up outside. As she watched the driver get out
she realized that her life had just completely changed. Suddenly she realized
she was looking at the reflection of a widow.
