The Call

The phone would not stop ringing.

I rolled over, getting caught in my sleeping bag as I reached for my cell. The screen was dark. I opened it, seeing no missed calls or even a text. Which was almost strange since I hadn’t told anyone where I was going and there were places I had been expected to be. There wasn’t even an overbearing text from my mother since I was supposed to have met her at the country club at eight to “talk about Barry.” I’d told her I couldn’t make it, but she wouldn’t accept that or the fact I was never giving Barry another chance.

Weird. Must have been a dream. A vivid one, for sure, but I could probably blame it on the two glasses of wine I’d had before crawling into my sleeping bag. I took a long drink of water and settled back into my cozy nest with a deep breath.

I needed this break so badly. No work. No mother. No glimpses of my ex driving by my apartment or him knocking on my door to try to get me to reconcile. I’d had enough of all of them.

Especially Barry.

He’d broken my heart and now expected me to forgive him. After three years together and a beautiful ring, we’d started planning our wedding. I’d expected him to be my forever. Imagining a long life with him had been easy. He was everything I’d ever dreamed of in a mate. And he’d screwed everything up.

And I was done.

After Thursday when he’d come to my work with flowers and another apology, I needed some distance. Major distance. He wasn’t taking me seriously when I said I was not going to give him another chance. He’d cheated. More than once. He was only sorry because I found out. He made all the promises, said all the things, and tried to love bomb me into taking him back.

I guess I was stupid. There had been signs—receipts from restaurants and bars we’d never gone to, even a hotel key. Oh so easily explained away as networking. What made me open my eyes was a glimpse of a text that popped up on his phone while we were cooking dinner. He’d quickly pocketed his phone, saying it was work stuff. Yeah, work stuff named Tiffany, who used a lot of hearts while texting.

After some research, okay snooping, (I’m not proud of it but felt justified) thanks to him leaving his messenger and email logged in on my laptop. I found he’d been cheating pretty much since year one of our relationship. So many different women. At least three I’d previously considered friends. I found an active dating profile thanks to a password reset email, found his page, and catfished him with flirty messages and promises of a good time. I got him to admit he was in a relationship and documented all the terrible things he said about me to justify his stepping out.

It hurt. More than I can even tell you.

That was a week ago and I can’t say I’m in better place. My heart still hurts and I mourn the relationship I thought we had. You know, the one that turned out to be a lie. I’m so angry.

I will never forget his face when he walked into Drew’s Pub expecting a hookup with a blonde influencer with D cups. He’d come to the table pretending he wasn’t meeting someone. He asked what I was doing there and I just looked at him, sliding him printouts of the screenshots where he said I was controlling.

He’d immediately started crying. He said he’d made a mistake and regretted it. I said he only regretted things because he got caught, took off my engagement ring and walked out. I cried the whole way back to my apartment and then I deadbolted the door since he had a key to the regular lock.

Twenty minutes later, he showed up and tried his key. He pounded on my door until the neighbor came out and yelled at him. Then he started calling me. Over and over. I turned my phone off and went to bed where I cried myself to sleep after emailing him all the evidence I’d collected, complete with screenshots and confirmation from a few of the women.

Then his mom started calling. Then his sister. And his dad. I ignored them all at first. Until Thursday. After security escorted him out of the hospital, I answered when his mom called. First, I forwarded her the same email I’d sent to him and made sure the stuff he said about me was at the top. She was almost desperate-sounding and tried to tell me I was killing him. It sucked because I adored her.

My own mother had told me to get over myself and forgive Barry. She said he didn’t owe me fidelity since we weren’t married yet. My own mother. My mother who was only interested in the prestige me being married to Barry would mean for her. Barry was the CEO of a tech startup that was making headlines almost every week. He was someone everyone wanted to know. Ha. Obviously.

I’d gone home after leaving work on Friday completely unsure of what I wanted to do. I did know I needed to get away, but the effort of figuring that out seemed like too much. Then I remembered my camping gear still in the back of my SUV. Barry and I were supposed to go to a music festival this weekend with my best friend and her husband, and since my work schedule had been hectic, I’d been proactive in preparing.

The only thing I needed to do was stop for food to shove in the cooler already in the vehicle. I’d even packed my clothes already. I called my best friend and asked if I could camp at her family’s private camping spot where we all spent so much time during the warmer months. After a quick double-check, she confirmed no one else had booked it for the weekend and that it was all mine. I felt bad for being happy she and her husband were still going to the music festival, but I really needed some time alone.

After buying more wine than one person needed, some lunchmeat, cheese, and crackers (among other things), I arrived and got my camp set up. I spent the next few hours at my campfire set in front of a beautiful creek.

And I didn’t feel any better.

My heartbreak had turned into white hot rage, and now I couldn’t stop thinking about ways to get even with Barry—to hurt him the way he’d hurt me. It wasn’t good. I knew that. But I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

I listened to the sounds the woods made at night as I tried to settle myself back to sleep. The dream had freaked me out more than I realized. But I comforted myself thinking about watching Barry cry.

As I drifted, the phone started ringing again.

I unzipped my tent when I realized it was coming from outside. Had Barry put a tracking phone on my car? It made no sense, but it was all I had.

Then I remembered.

Years ago, we found an old house phone in the creek after a flood. We’d strapped it to a tree as a joke and always talked about what we’d do if it ever started ringing. We’d even talked about modifying it so we could make it ring from our cell phones to freak people out.

I stood in front of the tree.

That phone was ringing.

At first, I thought Jenni’s husband had followed through on his idea for a prank. It definitely wasn’t funny. Well, it would have been in a different circumstance.

I reached for it, feeling like I had no choice. The ringing was too much, and it was scaring me.

Pressing the button to answer, I said nothing as I put the phone to my ear.

After several awkward seconds, a mechanical-sounding voice crackled across the line.

“Do you want to hurt him? I can help you.”