Cassette- Short (Phan)

C is for Cassette

I missed him. I missed him a lot.
Phil, that was. He left just two months ago. I wasn't quite sure why, but he left. The sole trace of his existence in my life was a vague note- folded- on my bedside table the next morning. He said he wanted to chase his dreams or something. It hurt.
It hurt so much.
I wish I'd read the signs..I should've noticed his peculiar behavior the time summing up to his disappearance. His quiet murmurs, the avoided eye contact.
Why did you leave me Phil.

I placed the last of my cardboard boxes into the trailer. I was moving. Today.
I couldn't afford the flat anymore, for it was too big, too flashy, and most of all, far too expensive. So I had decided to embark on my own journey to London, find myself while I was alone, maybe even chase my dreams. Just like Phil did.
I walked steadily back into the apartment, my heart dropping like a stone. It was so...bare, so cold. All of my stuff had vanished, and all of the shared memories with Phil and I seemed like distant echoes of the past. One's I would give anything to grasp. To replay.
I scanned the floors and under the beds for any stray objects of any meaning to me. A few wires maybe, or a book that slipped behind the shelving.
The last place I looked was Phil's bedroom, a shell amongst itself, the blankets stripped from the bed and posters from the walls. No more lion and possum. Now it was just me, myself and I. All on my own.
Unable to resist, I padded forward, further on into my past, opening drawers and peering under the bed.
Then I saw it, a faint glimmer under the bed. Just a small one, but nevertheless, it was something. I shuffled further under the wooden box spring, reaching out an arm towards the unidentifiable object. Got it.
I pulled it back out, not failing to whack my head against the rim of the bed. Letting out a grunt, I turned it over in my hands. It was a dusty thing, plastic with two holes in the middle- lined with film.
A cassette?
My heart gave a thud when I brushed off the grime. In big, sharpie bold letters, was written.
DAN
It was, in no doubt, Phil's handwriting.
Then the second thought hit me; A cassette? Such a classy bastard.
I took the cassette in two hands, holding it as if it were a fragile artifact. I guess it was, metaphorically, toward Phil and I's forgotten relationship. Unfortunately, the nearest stereo was stuffed under loads of boxes. But I needed to listen to this. This was my sanity on the line here.
After about an hour of unpacking boxes to find the hidden radio, and had it, perched upon my breakfast bar and plugged in, ready for action.
But I froze at the last moment.
This cassette possibly contained the answers to all of my questions. All of those nights spent awake wondering why I was so alone.
I had to do it. For me and for Phil.
I set the cassette into the front of the stereo, snapping shut the plastic barrier and hitting the play button. A wall of fuzz hit me, and disappoint ensued, but then the static faded, and a familiar voice was to be heard.
Phil.
Oh Phil.

"Hey Dan." His voice sounded tired, as if perhaps recording at 2:30 am. Maybe he had been. "Now that you've found this, I'm sure I'm gone. Maybe so far gone you hardly remember me, or maybe you've just woken to me gone. I will never know.
I miss you already Dan, and I really hope you can understand why I would do such a thing to you. But now that I'm gone, maybe you're ready for what I have to say.
Maybe you'll judge me and think I'm a coward, or disgusting, or anything in between. But I left for our friendship, so I could preserve it just a little longer. Ha, that seems so ironic saying I was the one who left..
B-but, um Dan, I'd been trying to bring the words up for you, I really did, but I just couldn't, so I ran. I didn't want you to hate me. Okay, you're probably thinking, Phil, get to the point here, haha, but, yeah.
I'm gay Dan, and I'm falling for you. I didn't want to, I tried to fight it, but I gave in. I fell, I fell hard. And I can't ever get back up."

The tape ended, the sound of the film rewinding filling the unoccupied kitchen.
My soul felt like it had been ripped in two.

But then I noticed a small note beneath my name, barely eligible. But it read;
647-2838
A phone number.

I tore my IPhone from my breast pocket and dialed madly, anxiously listening to the ring tone.
Then the ring was cut off, and noise was heard from the opposite end.

"Phil speaking?"

My heart seemed to smile- just a little bit.