The Phone Call

I didn't expect to get a call. I never get phone calls. But after hitting a perfect serve and going to get water, my phone starts going off. I have no idea who it is. I decline the call and start packing up. It rings again. I decline again. I'm almost at my car when it rings again. The caller is persistent.

"Hello?" I give in.

"Alana." His voice. I get chills, and I nearly hang up. "Please, don't hang up." Frustrated, I dump my things inside the car, just as another car ups in. One of the guys is here to play tennis.

"What do you want," I say, as the guy gets out and gives me a nod. I nod back and get inside my car.

"I just wanted to hear your-"

"Don't pull that crap, please, don't pull that crap," I interrupt. I hear a sigh from the other side. "I blocked you, this isn't your number, what do you want?"

"Maybe an explanation?" he replies. I freeze. The one thing I didn't want to talk about, the thing I haven't talked about for months. I start to laugh. "You called me... for an explanation?" I ask as if he were the idiot, and I wasn't the one who messed up.

"Alana..." he sighs, "Okay, fine, talk, about anything please." There's something about his voice that indicates pain, and if anything, I do owe him. "Okay," I breathed. "Where are you?" I ask, I always ask. I want to visually see what's around him and what his facial reactions will be as I talk. "I don't think you want to know," he says softly. "Liam," I start. "Alana," he says back. "Where are you?" I question, again, nervously. "I had a car accident."

"What?" No, no, no. "Are you good? Did you call someone?"

"I'm alright, I'm talking to you am I not?" "Liam, this is serious, are you okay?" I ask, I don't even notice the tears that fall off my face until I catch my reflection in the review mirror. "Alana, I called someone, but I don't feel anything, I'm not sure if...I'd make it."

"Liam," my voice cracks, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

"Alana, just talk, please?" I give him what he wants, and I talk about my day, about the previous days, about everything, and anything new. It's not a lot. "Liam? I love you. I'm sorry." But I don't get a response from him. It's a man instead.

"He's lost a lot of blood, do CPR."

Into the phone, "Hello? Is someone there?"

"Will he be alright?" I question. There's a pause as if he were looking up at one of his men.

"I don't know," he says softly and hangs up.