Survival Of The Fittest

Jennifer received the call at about 2 in the afternoon on a Monday. If she hadn't been home from work grieving, she wouldn't have even seen it until hours later.

She almost didn't pick it up anyway. As far as she was concerned, the whole world could fuck right off.

But when she looked at it, she recognized that the area code was from California. She flipped it open, accepted the call, and pressed the receiver to her ear. She didn't speak.

"Jennifer."

She kept her silence.

"Jennifer, you got to talk to me."

The voice was familiar. Maddening. The man's accent cut through his English, but at the same time caressed the words. It was the voice that had melted her years ago.

"Marcello. How did you get my number?"

"Your sister. Even she knew she had to give it when she found out what happened."

"Well, I'm gonna h-"

He cut her off.

"Please don't hang up, Jennifer."

She gritted her teeth.

"Well what do you fucking want? You can't see your kids now. You want to scold me? You want to tell me I never should have left?"

A pause on the other end of the line.

"No." He said. "I don't want to tell you nothing like that."

"What, then?"

"I just want to talk."

Jennifer sat back against the headboard of her bed. She held her forehead in her free hand as bitter tears stung her eyes.

"Then talk."