The Missing

The Last Call

I accepted that task against my will. I had sworn that I would never again relate to musicians. I was still trying to recover from a painful relationship that made me suspicious and hostile with that category and to defend myself from possible other sufferings, I decided to get away from that environment. So, I resigned from the music magazine I worked for. However, I owed a favor to my boss and considering the infinite patience he had shown towards me in the last months, I couldn't refuse. After all, it was just a telephone appointment. The umpteenth silly interview with the umpteenth emerging singer who feels like a God.
I knew that kind of people. "He will be selfish, full of himself and arrogant like every rock star." I was talking loud to myself, in my silent, messy apartment. "Calm down, I have to go beyond my prejudices at least for the next twenty minutes, be professional, pretend to be interested in his music."
I took one of those sedative pills that my doctor gave me to face the depression, dialed Dustin Bates's number, and turn on the recorder. I formally introduced myself and waited to hear his voice, but the line was disturbed, it seemed like he was walking in a place with bad reception.
"Dustin, are you there? Can you hear me?"
A rustle, followed by a crack. His deep voice seemed anxious.
"I'm here."
I asked him a few standard questions: "What do your lyrics speak about, what's your inspiration ...", listening to him distractedly, until his voice was interrupted by a sharp sound, followed by other shrill noises.
"Dustin? The line is disturbed, I can not hear anything, are you still there? "
A breathless breath.
"Listen, I know you do not believe in a word of what I told you, but maybe you're the last person I'll talk to. I need..."
I heard a hiss, like an old train one, then deep silence.
"Dustin?"
I looked at the phone: there was no line.
I tried to get in touch with him a couple of times, but no signal came from the other side.
My sensitivity was impacted by that strange conversation, but I would not have let myself be involved. No more involvement, of any kind, with musicians. I saved the audio file of the interview, turned off every device and, stunned by drugs, I fell asleep.