Replay

“I’m sorry, babe. I really am.” To replay this message, press--

I let my finger hit the button and his voice filled the room again. The hairs on the back of my neck and down my arms stood on end as his sultry voice spoke to me. That twinge of a Virginian accent, That optimism that clings to his voice despite the circumstances, that reassurance and confidence even when admitting he was an addict with a problem still made me feel so safe. How the ghost of a man could still make me feel like his arms were around me was baffling. Yet, even in a puddle of tears in our now-empty bed, Brandon's voice made me feel so much less alone. As he talked, his voice was there, he was there, wrapping his arms around me and wiping the tears from my cheeks and replacing them with kisses.

My stomach revolted at the thought of him. He was the reason for all of my misfortune. The reason my parents are now on my ass about suing his family despite their total detachment from this situation. The reason I had a stack of pink envelopes overflowing on my table. The reason my credit cards are just as useless as keeping these vacuous emails. Yet, as soon as I erase them, it’ll be like he was never here. All seven years of our relationship will be deleted the second I hit...

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