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My lips held the damp, lit cigarette in the corner of my mouth as I became occupied with the work of art in front of me. I squeezed just the right amount of paint out on each part, not wanting to mess up on this masterpiece I've been working on for what seems like centuries.
My phone, which was across the room, vibrated loudly along with its annoying ringing, almost making me drop my spray can. "Fuckin' shit," I murmured. Whoever's calling will just have to wait. I don't have any friends anyway. Who the fuck even likes me? Not even the bitches I fuck. They only want two things from me: a good time and money; all they get is a good time. But that's in my past. I don't know if I'm too afraid to catch something else, or if I honestly feel bad for cheating on Majesty so many times, but I can't find it in my heart to go out and be a rabbit. I know she's at some other guy's house cheating. Where else would she be? She's been gone since February, it's now March. April is creeping up on us; two more weeks.
I can't sit my pride aside and call my own wife.
The loud ringing echoed throughout the room once again, but this time the can slipped right out of my fingers. Spitting my cigarette out, I stepped on it then marched to my phone. The number was foreign to me; a Rhode Island number. I chose to answer it since I've been getting numbers from all over the country calling me randomly.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Alexander Turner?" A feminine voice inquired.
I furrowed my eyebrows and glanced at the number before placing the phone back to my ear. "Yeah. Who this?"
"This is Ally Pulaski from Butler Hospital." She replied happily as if she were a Chick-Fil-A worker. "I'm calling in regards of our family visit day and we would all appreciate it very much if you are able to attend."
"The hell is Butler Hospital and why would I go to a family visit day?"
"B-butler Hospital is a rehab facility in Rhode Island sir. Your wife, Majesty Turner, has been here since February and family visit day would allow her to see you. People miss their families while cooped up in here. Can I count on you coming?"
Rehab facility? The hell she do?
"You can count on me."
After hanging up, I went to my voicemails since whoever called my phone before this rehab facility left a voicemail with their missed call. My eyes widened when I saw the contact "Wife I guess" along with the shrug emoji beside it. I placed the phone on speaker, holding it closely to my ear, and leaned against the table. Majesty's soft voice echoed within my heart; my heart then dropped to the pits of my stomach when I heard her repetitive sniffing on the other line.
