Page 53 of Gorgeous Misery

“Don’t forget to send Wendy sunflowers. Her birthday’s coming up.”

Beeeeeeep.

“Next message…”

I press stop again.

This machine is definitely a to-do list. But my birthday isn’t coming up. It just passed two weeks ago. So this message is from what, three weeks ago? Maybe a month?

And the asshole did not send me flowers. First time in years that he didn’t find me—wherever I was in the world—and get me those sunflowers.

“Duh, Wendy,” I huff. “That’s why you’re here. He’s missing.”

And some asshole is playing phone games with me.

Two more messages though. So I press play.

“So… Yeah. Sorry about that. I haven’t been home in a while. I thought I would be, but I couldn’t swing it. Don’t be mad at me, OK? I’m fine. I’ll see you soon.”

Beeeeeeep.

“Next message…”

Wait. Who the hell is he talking to? Does he have a girlfriend? And did he tell her to send me flowers for my birthday? Oh. My heart will crack in half if he’s been having some girl send my mandatory sunflowers every year.

Oh, my God, I’m losing my mind or something. Nick does not have a girlfriend. That’s probably the dumbest accusation I’ve ever come up with.

And hold on. My birthday is coming up. It didn’t just pass.

So… what the hell is wrong with me?

Holy fuck, I’m losing my mind. It’s really happening. It’s too late, there’s no cure for me. I’m about to slip into some bizarre psychosis and…

I look around again. But this time, I really look around. Then I go to the bedroom and flip on the lights. The bed is made and nothing is out of place. And at this point, I should not be surprised. He just told me he hasn’t been home in a while. So who was he leaving that message for?

I check the closet. Like the fridge, it’s empty. No clothes, no shoes, no nothing. Then I check the tiny bathroom. Not even a toothbrush in the cabinet mirror. Not even a bottle of aspirin.

No one is living here.

So again. Who is he leaving that message for?

One more to hear, Wendy. Press play.

“You know how to find me. Stop playing around, Wendy.”

Beeeeeeep.

“No more messages. Press one to delete. Press two to keep as new. Press—”

I press stop and lean against the counter.

I am perplexed. Because none of this makes sense. I don’t even know why I’m here. In fact, I should leave. Now.

The phone rings.

I consider not answering it, but I’m like a fucking cat in this respect. Curiosity is going to get me killed one day. I pick up the receiver. “What?”

“What did you find out?”