Molly

6

So I did what I never thought I would; I let her go. When I got that last phone call, I am ashamed to say, I was not happy to hear from her.

I sat in my office, distracted and nearly falling asleep at my desk as the light from my boxy computer blared in my eyes.

Molly stood in a phone booth, sick from withdrawal with purple-ish circles making a platform for her hopeless expression. She leaned into the glass exterior of the phone booth, standing on trembling legs as she attempted to rebalance herself. She ran a hand through her hair, trying her best to sober up and remember the correct phone number. Molly turned the rotary carefully, and it spun slower than her head was in the moment. She settled the phone by her ear, anticipation filling like a lump in her chest as she waited for words to come out the other end. She bit down on her nails, already having chipped nail polish littered about them. When the ringing halted, Molly perked up, immediately opening her mouth to speak.

"Hey, there you are! I got you!" Molly blurted out excitedly as the phone call went through.

"Have you been trying to call me?" I asked, leaning my elbow onto the desk.

"Yeah."

"How are you?"

"Same old me."

"Oh," I said, looking down with a dropped facial expression.

"But, I was thinking of coming to see you for Christmas," she continued with her typically cheery tone. "I'd like to... you know, hang out."

"Christmas is two weeks away, and it would probably be hard to get a ticket. Plus, my in-laws are coming. I don't think it'd be a good idea," I grumbled out, not sure if I was eager to shut down her plans and never see her again or sad that I felt the need to.

"Yeah. I just miss you so much." She fiddled with the phone cord, before biting down on her nails. Her hand clutched the phone, holding it as if she was entwining her hand with mine like we always had.

"Yep. Miss you too, but I just can't this time."

"Okay then. I guess I should go. We should talk more often. We should start talking every day again," she said, and I could just hear her toothy smile.

"We should." The words just stumbled out of my mouth, saying anything she wanted to hear at that point.

"We're better when we talk every day. I'm better when we talk every day," she nearly whispered, biting down on her lip.

I sat up a bit at those words. "Molly. Are you... okay?"

"Yeah, of course. Anyways, listen, I got to run. I'm meeting someone."

"Okay."

"Do you still love me?"

"Of course."

"Okay, I was just checking. I love you too. Goodbye, Charlotte."

When I heard the dead tone of the call, I was a bit surprised, as she always called me Lottie instead. Despite me saying I never really had people call me nicknames, she insisted, and I couldn't help but grow fond of it. It was always "Lottie" this, "my dear" that, even after we had much less contact.

I glanced outside the window of my office, looking into the night sky. Breaking through the pitch black sky, a shooting star darted across. I closed my eyes, remembering that illuminated night, making a different wish this time. I wish Molly would get better. I repeated hopelessly in my head.