I pull it from its cradle and raise it to my ear.
“Hi, Erica,” I say, finally answering her call.
“Hi, dad,” she replies, and my stomach drops.
I turn, spotting Erica. She waves at me from her wheelchair as Marie let’s her in the front door. She never walked again after that night. Sometimes I wonder if Erica blames me, if she knows that if I had kept that madman focused on her mother that perhaps the cops would have arrived in time, before he had ever had a chance to hurt her.
Sometimes I wonder this, but right now, right in this moment, a different fear presides. I see her there and at once I’m elated to find that both my daughters are home, angered by the many ways that man shattered our lives, and horrified, horrified by the open line pressed to my ear.
I know at once what’s happening. I know who’s calling, but I cannot accept it.
“Hello?” My voice comes out weak and questioning, unable to cope with the horrific potential on the other end of the line. I’m fairly certain my heart cannot withstand a second round, even these many years later.
My daughters stare at me, not yet comprehending. As they stare, Lilo barks, wagging her tail and jumping excitedly from one to the other, trying to steal their attention. Marie and Erica try to silence the dog, though with no luck.
I fear they have some sense of my panic, but for their sake, I hope that they don’t see its cause - that they don’t suspect the truth and the pain that it could bring. I’d rather they remain content in the peace of ignorance in this moment. They should never have to live through that nightmare, again.
“Hello?” I repeat, raising my voice over Lilo’s barking.
At first, only silence answers. Then comes the faint sounds of muffled breathing, and the crunch of footsteps on gravel. I listen closer, pressing the phone tight against my ear. As I do, just faintly I make out another sound echoing in the distance. Is that a dog barking that I hear? Is it Lilo?
“Hello?” I repeat one last time just before the line goes dead.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath in.
About The Author
Christopher Opyr
Christopher Opyr is the pen name of Christopher Hutton. He is a former story producer and voice-over writer for television, although Calling Mr. Nelson Pugh is his first prose publication. He lives in North Carolina with his wife, daughter, and a menagerie of animals: four cats, a dog, and multiple guinea pigs.
Calling Mr. Nelson Pugh Page 8
