The Flynn Effect

18 | late night calls

Jo

"YOU'VE REACHED ANDREW Pryce. I'm probably busy right now so please leave a message."

I tuck my legs under my thighs and sit upright. "Can you at least pick up mum's calls if you can't even pick mine? I know that you're not a child but sometimes she's worried sick about you."

I swallow and glare at my blanket like it's his face I'm looking at. My voice is filled with too much emotion so I clear my throat before I speak again. "The least you can do after squandering her money is to be fucking humane."

I hang up after that and lower my phone to the bed. I'm in one of those moods where I have a ridiculous writer's block and wear my dad's old sweatshirt to bed, just to try and remember what he smelled like before he left. I'm in one of those moods where I really desire to talk to someone about literally anything and at a point in my life, after dad left, that used to be my older brother. Before we became strangers to each other.

And even after that, even when he wouldn't pick up my calls since he left for college two years ago, I would say everything I wanted to say in his voicemail. Hoping that he'd get back to me or even send me a text. But nothing happened.

Today, when I called him, it wasn't to rant or vent. It was because I'd noticed the larger eye bags mum carried about and the constant zoning out when we were having conversation while washing the dishes and she's only ever like that when she's worrying about either of her children.

Hana is the second person I can rant to but she hasn't called me or sent me a text since her mum told me I was a distraction. I haven't called her too or texted but it has been purposeful, with the impression that she'd notice and call me herself since I do the calling most of the time. But she doesn't. And I don't want to be selfish enough to think she's forgotten she has a friend almost five thousand miles away who is constantly eager to talk to her. Instead, I give her the benefit of doubt and make up excuses for her. She's busy, she's studying and she has to be the best. I shouldn't be a stumbling block to her goals.

I grab my journal again and take up a pen. The blank page stares back at me and my pen tightens in my grip. I can't think of anything. I flip it shut and stare at the wall in front of my desk that is filled with different sheets of my writing. When I write and don't show grandma, I plaster them on the wall and look at them whenever I'm less busy. There are papers upon papers, some plastered over the other and some newer than the rest. A paper succumbs to gravity from its loose hold on the wall and gently glides to the table.

I turn to my phone and scroll through social media. It doesn't interest me. I look around and search for King but he's downstairs with my grandmother in her room. I check my blood glucose level since I have nothing to do. It's 1 a.m and I can't sleep. I'm alone. And today, I'm not happy that I'm alone.

I lay on the bed and try to close my eyes, but it doesn't invite sleep. The silence is loud in my room and my mind immediately becomes swarmed with an army of different thoughts. I toss and turn on the bed to block them away but they attack me with full force. I grab my phone and hesitate to dial the number I want to dial.

I can't call Hana and I can't call my brother. I can't call Amanda or Cass because we aren't as close as that. I can't call Eloise or Otis because they're my co-workers. It's not like I'm so close to Flynn either but no matter how hard I try to deny it, he's the closest thing to a friend I have right now.

I give in to the second thoughts and place my phone back on the bed but that's a mistake because once I close my eyes, I start to count. And when I count, I remember a park and a throng of unfamiliar people around me and a sense of panic. I grab my phone again before I start to cry and dial Flynn's number.