Dear God, please let him call me. I mean, he needs to call me sometime soon. Okay, more like now. See I know you’re busy saving the world and all, making sure you answer prayers and keeping the angels in line, but I just need this small favor, cause I don’t ask for much. But please, let him call me….or he can hit me up in my inbox if for some reason his battery has died or his phone has been stolen. Please. Dear God, please.
Okay, so maybe I need something else to occupy my mind. I do need to rearrange my pantry since it’s the season for spring cleaning. Then maybe while I’m alphabetizing spices, my phone might ring. Catch me off guard. Like I’ll start shelving the Allspice and slowly, by the time I make it to the Turmeric, my phone will ring. Or maybe as I reorganize my closet and fold dress pants over clothes hangers, it might ring by that time. And when he does call me…by the time I get to unknotting necklaces, I won’t answer. I’ll just let it ring. My choker, a gold chain, the kink in my herringbone, the fake pearls I got from the mall…oh please God, let it ring.
Alright, let me turn the phone on its face, so I don’t see the time. The more I look at the time, the more I wonder why he hasn’t called. This is crazy. I won’t look at it again. He said he would call me when he was done. After I text him, WYA? That was two days ago. No call. No text. But I swear I saw three dots one time. Should I be concerned? Was he beat up in a dark alley? Was he in a car accident? Maybe I should be calling the hospitals? But I did notice the picture he liked on Instagram a few hours ago. Some chick. He shouldn’t mind if I call him, right? He did call me “baby”…that’s me. But I know I shouldn’t call him again. Yeah…yesterday, I broke down and called. But after the second ring, it went to voicemail. Maybe it’s because he’s at work. He did get a promotion. “More responsibilities,” he said. “More work hours,” he informed me.
God you said in your word to “Ask and it will be given unto you.” Well, I’m asking. I’m begging. This ain’t even a big prayer. You sitting up there on your throne looking down on me, your daughter. Sweating a man…your son…see you don’t know what this is like. No one can take your heart and do what they wish with it. Take it and mold it into whatever shape they desire. Step on it. No one can touch you. No one can break your heart, cause you’re God. Look at my heart…it’s being twisted, blood is dripping out of it. The blood I’m supposed to plead. My heart is in his hands. Please. Help me. In the name of Jesus, your perfect son, who was made flesh. Ask him. He knows what it’s like! Dear God, please…let him call me now. I’ll take an emoji smiley face at this point!
I need to stop. Do you hear me? Don’t pay me any attention. I have to do something else to get my mind off of this. Okay, here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna take my phone and put it in the kitchen on the counter. That way I’ll have to walk all the way into the kitchen to see if he’s called and then by the time I walk back to my bedroom, my phone will ring. And I’ll answer with a smile and ask him how his day has been. I won’t even bring up the fact that it’s been two days since I last heard his voice. Then maybe he won’t sense my anxiety and he’ll tell me he loves me and misses me and has to see me right now!
I think he still has love for me. He wouldn’t have called me ‘baby’. God, please, if you could just let him call me, all of this worry would be wiped away. I’ll even forgive him for neglecting me and sending me to voicemail when I did break down and call him yesterday. I won’t call him again. As long as I live, I’ll go to hell before I break down and call him again. You don’t have to worry about me, I can take care of myself. I have the discipline and the nerve to stand in my integrity. If he wanted to talk to me, he would call. He knows where I stay. He knows where I work. He knows my number, and he knows how to text.
It would be so easy to call him though. Then it would ease all of my uncertainties. Maybe it wouldn’t be so pathetic, right? Maybe he would like it. Maybe he would be reminded of why he loves me so much. Me and my girlish moments. Maybe he’s been trying to call me. He does have bad service in his apartment. I remember that one time he called and his phone kept going in and out. That’s why he texts me most of the time when he’s home. Or, maybe he has a new phone and doesn’t remember my number by heart. He did say he was gonna upgrade soon.
Please God, don’t let me call him.
Let me turn on the television and watch one of my shows I love so much. Then by the time I really get into it, he’ll call. Right when I’m about to get excited and wish the main character would get it together, my phone will ring and it will be him. Or maybe I should read a book. It definitely won’t be a romantic book, more like a nonfiction title. This is some bullshit. Mother-fucking bullshit. I can’t stand men who do dumb shit like this. This is why before I met him, I was single. I was doing my thing. I didn’t have to worry about shit like this. I’m telling you. I’m turning my phone off. To hell with him and hope he –
Me, “Hey bighead.”