Page 50 of The Call She Made That He Never Answered
What if Maya had gotten Ella's "instructions" too? What if she also refused my call or blocked me outright? Then I'd truly have no way to reach Ella.
I threw back a mouthful of whiskey. As the burn hit my skull, I jabbed the call button.
Even a one percent chance was worth taking.
"Hello? Who's this?" Maya's weak voice came through.
"Lucas Rockefeller." I exhaled with relief, volunteering my name.
Dead silence on the other end. So quiet I thought she'd hung up.
I pulled the phone away, checked the call timer. Still connected.
Then Maya's voice exploded.
"Lucas, you're an absolute piece of shit!"
Her words slapped me across the face. Anger surged in my chest, but I forced it down.
"Why are you this angry? I just want to know why Ella hasn't come home!"
"You have the nerve to ask why?" Maya was gasping. "Ella saw you with your assistant at the sanatorium, visiting Professor Williams... You betrayed your marriage, got another woman pregnant! What do you think Ella is? How could she possibly keep living at Rockefeller after that?"
I shot to my feet. Cigar ash scattered across the expensive marble, a mess of gray powder.
I'd imagined a thousand reasons for Ella leaving. Never this one.
"Pregnant?" I repeated the absurd word, forced myself to speak clearly. "Maya, listen. It's a misunderstanding. I took Vivian to see Professor Williams, but not for her, for her sister. Her sister had severe morning sickness; nothing was working..."
"Misunderstanding?" Maya cut me off with a bitter laugh dripping with contempt. "Lucas, drop that arrogant act. If you hadn't been too close to her all along, if you'd ever given Ella the respect and protection a wife deserves, why wouldn't she trust you? In this marriage, you only ever loved yourself!"
Click. Dial tone.
The call cut off brutally.
I stood frozen. The busy signal pounded my temples like a hammer.
I'd naively thought that if I just figured out why Ella left, everything would fix itself. Only now did I realize she hadn't fledon impulse. Her compliance, her silence—they'd been filled with disappointment in me.
She thought I didn't love her enough.
That I didn't protect her.
That I was too close to other women.
Our marriage had been hollowed out by misunderstanding after misunderstanding, and I'd noticed nothing until it collapsed.
I threw down my phone.
I finally understood. I could call a hundred times and never fix what was actually broken.
My head spun. For the first time in my life, I wanted desperately to ask for help. Maybe I should find a marriage counselor? A psychology professor?
I killed the thought immediately. What would they know? They'd spout textbook theories and formulaic advice that couldn't glue back together what Ella and I had. Besides, exposing my weakness to strangers would only make me feel more ridiculous and exhausted.
So I did the only thing I knew how to do. I buried myself in work.
Like the coward I was.
