Waiting on the Ring
1110 Words
“Recorded Call #18
Malik: “Hey, Trouble.”
Alina: “There you are.”
Malik: “You always waiting on me?”
Alina: “Always.”
Malik: “Don’t make a habit out of waiting on me.”
Alina: “Too late.”
⸻
The hardest part wasn’t the distance.
It wasn’t the fences.
It wasn’t the guards or the metal detectors.
It wasn’t even saying goodbye after visitation.
The hardest part…
Was waiting.
Waiting for the phone to ring.
Waiting for the mailman.
Waiting for visitation weekends.
Waiting for answers neither of us had.
I never realized how much of my life could be measured by waiting until Malik became part of it.
I no longer checked the clock because I had somewhere to be.
I checked it because maybe…
Just maybe…
He’d be calling soon.
⸻
Wednesday had become my favorite day.
Not because anything special happened at work.
Not because it was the middle of the week.
Because Wednesdays were usually the days Malik called after his evening class.
Usually.
I hated that word.
Usually meant nothing was guaranteed.
At 6:42, I glanced at my phone.
Nothing.
At 6:58…
Still nothing.
By 7:15, I’d reheated my dinner twice.
By 7:31, I’d convinced myself something had happened.
Maybe the phones were down.
Maybe there’d been a lockdown.
Maybe he was sick.
Maybe—
My phone rang.
I nearly dropped the plate running to answer it.
“Hello?”
A familiar laugh echoed through the speaker.
“Easy there, Trouble.”
I leaned against the kitchen counter and closed my eyes.
“You scared me.”
“I know.”
“You couldn’t call?”
“I am calling.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
His voice softened.
“I’m sorry.”
“The whole unit got locked down after count.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding.
“I thought something happened.”
“It did.”
“What?”
“You worried yourself sick.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I don’t do that.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I was… concerned.”
He laughed.
“Trouble.”
⸻
“What’d you eat today?” I asked.
He groaned dramatically.
“You don’t wanna know.”
“Try me.”
“Some mystery meat.”
I laughed.
“Was it chicken?”
“I think.”
“You think?”
“It had feathers in another life.”
I laughed so hard I had tears in my eyes.
“You lying.”
“I wish I was.”
“What’d you eat?”
“I made baked spaghetti.”
He sighed.
“You know you ain’t right.”
“What?”
“You always telling me about food I can’t have.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
“You definitely was.”
“I’ll make you some one day.”
The line grew quiet.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“I might hold you to that.”
“I hope you do.”
⸻
The conversation drifted into comfortable silence.
Neither of us felt pressured to keep talking every second.
Sometimes just hearing each other breathe was enough.
Finally he spoke.
“You know what I was thinking about today?”
“What?”
“The visitation room.”
I smiled.
“Me too.”
“I kept seeing you walking through those doors.”
“You looked nervous.”
“I was.”
“I could tell.”
“I almost turned around.”
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“I saw it all over your face.”
I laughed.
“Was it that obvious?”
“Only to me.”
⸻
He paused.
“You know what surprised me?”
“What?”
“You looked at everybody.”
“What do you mean?”
“You smiled at everybody in there.”
“The old lady sitting by herself.”
“The little boy crying.”
“The officer checking IDs.”
“You notice people.”
I frowned.
“I guess I do.”
“Most folks don’t.”
“Why were you watching me?”
“Because…”
He hesitated.
“I wanted to see if the woman I’d been talking to on the phone was real.”
“And?”
A soft chuckle escaped him.
“She was even better.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks.
“You flirting?”
“I don’t know how.”
“You just did.”
“I did?”
“You definitely did.”
He laughed.
“Well…”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I was planning on it.”
⸻
The automated voice interrupted.
“You have five minutes remaining.”
I hated those announcements.
Five minutes suddenly felt like five seconds.
“Trouble?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“What made you answer my call that first day?”
I stared out the window into the fading evening light.
“I almost didn’t.”
“I figured.”
“I sat there looking at my phone for almost ten minutes.”
“So why’d you answer?”
I smiled.
“Something told me I should.”
“What if you hadn’t?”
I thought about that question.
If I hadn’t answered…
There would’ve been no letters.
No visits.
No laughter.
No “Hey, Trouble.”
No us.
“I don’t like thinking about that.”
“Me neither.”
⸻
The recording interrupted again.
“One minute remaining.”
He cleared his throat.
“I gotta tell you something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know where this is going.”
“I don’t either.”
“I don’t know what tomorrow looks like.”
“I don’t either.”
“But…”
He paused.
“I know I look forward to every single day because somewhere in it…”
“I get to hear your voice.”
I smiled through the tears forming in my eyes.
“And I look forward to every day because somewhere in it…”
“I get to hear you say…”
He laughed before I finished.
“‘Hey, Trouble.’”
“Exactly.”
The recording returned one final time.
“This call has ended.”
The silence felt louder than ever.
I set my phone on the table and stared at it.
Some people measured love with flowers.
Others measured it with gifts.
We measured ours…
In fifteen-minute phone calls…
Three-hour visits…
Letters folded into thirds…
And two simple words.
“Hey, Trouble.”
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