Looking for Damiano’s number on the contact list has never been more difficult. Your fingers slid though parts of the screen that you didn’t want to touch, making your frustration even worse. The phone line called, in a high nothing that deafened your ears. Once, twice, three times, until it goes into voice mail.
Taking that as a sign, you chose not to try again. After all, talking to Damiano about it right in that moment, considering that he was busy with touring and clearly miles away from you, would only worry him over nothing. It wasn’t something he could solve.
Within a few minutes, your phone rang. As soon as his name popped up on the screen, with some heart emojis on the side, you felt terrible for doing that to him.
You hadn’t only broken your dreams, but you were about to break his.
You answered, keeping yourself quiet. Waiting for his voice to emerge as a lump formed in your throat.
“Babe, you’re in there? I couldn’t reach the phone on time at first.”
You were immobile, your lack of words showed him that. “I’m fine,” giving yourself time, you started to feel everything you hadn’t felt until you came home all at once, “I was at the doctor today.”
“Why do you sound like it’s the end of the world? You’re good?” Through his breathing, it was easy to imagine that he’d stopped doing whatever he was doing to pay better attention to you on the line; not that he wasn’t before. You should have chosen to call his mum, she’d know how to look after you. “Wait, it’s babies related? You’re playin’ with me,” he concluded with a smile appearing on the sides of his lips. You could picture and hear it perfectly.
You used to pretend that something bad was coming when you had good news, something you now regret having done. You were selfish for talking to him, he was so far away; you could talk to him about it when he came home. Doing that now would only attribute to him more concerned than he was already having in his hectic daily tour life. Still, he was the only person you needed.
“Quiet the opposite.”
The call was exposed to a long pause, being filled with his heavy sighs and with your stubborn tears running down your cheeks. All the way home you hadn’t let a tear fall, but verbalizing it? verbalizing made things sound different; more real.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, clearly a bit out of place.
“I can’t have kids Dami,” your words affected by the wheezing you were trying to hold. He could tell that everything was hitting you at once while talking to him. Years together were able to recognize even the small details. “The reason we’re trying and it has never worked is me. That’s fuckin’ on me.”
“No, babe,” he took a deep breth. “Don’t blame yourself, please. You know this isn’t your fault.” He ran his fingers disastrously through his hair; feeling useless over the phone. Just as you imagined before making the call. It was bad to be providing him that. “Are you alone? I can ask mom to check on you. I’ll do that, ‘kay?”
“Please,” You didn’t feel like spending the rest of the day by yourself. And although you also didn’t feel like talking to anyone other than Dami, you knew his mom would understand you better, she would know how to make you feel less worse with yourself, it’d be nice to have her around. Being alone with your billiards of thoughts would not be a good option anyway. “I thought about calling her, ended up givin’ up, I didn’t know what to do, I still don’t. Calling you still doesn’t seem like a good idea, but I didn’t know what to do.”
Your weak voice was killing Damiano. If hearing that had made him sad, he couldn’t imagine what it was being like for you. “You did great, babe. Anything you need at anytime at all, remember?” He smiled, muffled by the line; making you feel a little better. “We can still have kids, y'know that.”
