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"Agent Bering’s phone. Leave a message."
It wasn’t until she heard the words that Helena realized what she had done.
Quickly ending the call before it could get any further Helena leaned back in her chair with a sigh. Her heart pounded out a hard rhythm in her chest as she pushed her hair off her face. Myka’s voice, after all this time. It was like a balm that soothed her to her very soul.
Yet it felt like a hot poker through her chest reminding her of how much she missed hearing that voice every day. The voice that whispered sweetly into her ear when she refused to get out of bed. The voice that screamed her name passionately as she came undone beneath Helena. The voice that soothed her through every nightmare about her lost child. The voice that became her only life line in the dark world.
It was well over a month later when she gave in to the urge and dialed the number again. Later she’d blame the half empty glass by her bed, but she knew the truth.
"Agent Bering’s phone. Leave a message."
Helena hesitated a bit longer, but again she ended the call before she could say anything. Finishing her drink in one swallow Helena laid back on her bed trying to get her pulse to settle down. Those six words did so much to her.
Once every month she listened to the message, then hung up without a word.
It wasn’t even a week after the last call that Helena found herself staring at her phone again. Slowly the phone rose to her ear, she held her breath as she waited out the rings.
"Agent Bering’s phone. Leave a message."
Helena released her breath and said the one word she’d avoided saying for months, “Myka…”
The name hung in the air. As Helena tried to convince herself to hang up a whispered word slipped quietly from the phone and froze her in place.
"Helena." Myka’s voice, saying her name. She’d imagined it time and again since she was forced to leave. Her memory of the word slipping off the agent’s tongue did the beauty of it no justice.
Helena tried to think of something to say, but the usually eloquent author came up blank.
"I shouldn’t have called," she managed to force out.
"I know," was all Myka whispered.
"I should go," Helena said, trying to fight back the tears. She knew once the call was over she’d break all over again.
"I know," Myka repeated. Her voice betraying the same emotions.
Neither made a move to end the call. They stayed exactly as they were, letting the silence say everything they would never have the chance to say out loud.
Both women knew these calls must never happen again.
Yet every week the call was made. Neither ever said more than the other’s name, but in those few silent hours, both felt complete in a way they hadn’t in a long time.