Franklin

4 | of an unexpected phone call

               THE DARKER THE NIGHT, THE BRIGHTER THE STARS.

               I wonder if Dostoevsky thought of that at night. If he did, it had to be a very beautiful night—unlike tonight.

               It’s raining cats and dogs outside. The wind too has picked up speed. I am glad Andy and I made it back from dinner at Barney’s in time.

               I lock the door of the room behind me and proceed to make some space for myself on the bed where my changed clothes from this morning still lie. Note to self: house keeping is not a privilege here.

              When my feet touch the mattress, it sinks in how tired I really am from all that walking. And all of it for nothing.

               Perhaps I myself am to blame for the outrageous and strange reaction I have been receiving from everyone. I need to ease up. I need to keep my personal thoughts about the town aside and focus. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I will start all over again.

               I don’t remember falling asleep, but I wake up to my phone vibrating against my leg. When I open my eyes, I find everything blurred for a second. Fighting sleep inertia, I unlock my phone. 

               I have one missed call. I check the caller ID. The name JAMES KURT flashes on the screen.

               The name sounds familiar. A chill runs down my spine—not because the name sounds familiar, but the reason why it sounds so familiar. Now this, this had to be a coincidence. Surely there were other people named James Kurt out there, save for the only one I knew.

               After staring at the screen for another minute, I gather the courage to call back. Someone picks up on the fourth ring.

               “Hello?” I hate how shaky my voice sounds. 

               I hear static and the sound of murmurings on the other side of the line.

               “Hello, James? Is that really you? Are you okay? Where are you?”

               He says something. The sound is too low for me to hear. I press the phone closer to my ear. 

               “James?” I check the phone to make sure the call isn’t disconnected. “Are you there? I can’t hear you. I am hanging up now, okay?”

               Suddenly, the sound of someone crying comes through the phone.

               “Are you okay?” My hand shakes. “Can I get an answer please?”

               That’s the last question I get to ask before the call disconnects. I think of calling back. This doesn’t make sense. His phone could have been stolen, that’s one plausible explanation. Or it was him. But either way, why would he call me? If it was him. It might as well be Andy or someone else from office playing a sick prank, having changed their caller ID.

               There is only one way to know.

               I open Gmail and pull up my emails with Richard. When I find what I am looking for, I click on an attachment and wait for the file to load

               There it is:

James Kurt, missing since June 5, 2020 from Franklin, New England.
Born: Nov 27, 1993. Age missing: 27. Height: 6'1. Weight: 160 lbs

               I skip to the part containing his contact information. If the number here does not match with the one in my call log, I have nothing to worry about. I open the Phone app to cross check.

               Only there are no call logs to cross check from.