Is that All?

“Good Evening Mr. Davis. This is Mary just calling to verify that the funds have been released and should appear in your account in the next few days. Feel free to give me a call back if you have any questions.”

Mary’s voice was calm and professional like always, nothing beyond complete professionalism could be heard when she spoke. Every phone call Paul had with her was always the same. Mary was always straight to the point and never strayed away from the topic at hand. Some could consider the action heartless, but for Paul it provided a sense of strange comfort. His phone began to speak once more,

“End of message. Press seven to save, press one to…” Paul ended the voice mail as the automated voice message began. Mary had called only moments ago while he was staring blankly into the dark corners of his bedroom. Paul could not bring himself to answer her call, he simply couldn't gather the strength to speak to someone. Paul’s phone had finished playing back the voicemail and returned to its bright home screen, illuminating the room and chasing away the darkness if only for a brief moment. Paul felt his eyes dilate painfully and a sharp twinge traveled from his eyes to his skull. He had spent the last few days locked away in the prison he called a home. His only interactions had been through phone calls with various friends, family and even a few different lawyers. The calls had been coming one after another for days and when Paul did have a moment of silence, he found it more deafening than the constant ringing of his phone.

The phone screen faded as Paul placed it back on the wireless charger, the last moments of light briefly shined on the black cover of a notebook on the table. Paul turned on a standing floor lamp, the dull light not as painful this time, and stared at the unassuming little notebook. Hesitantly, Paul reached out and carefully picked up the small book. He handed it with such care that one could believe that it was so delicate that the weakest breeze could turn the pages to dust. The black synthetic cover was cold and smooth, with a simple black elastic band keeping the hard covers closed. The ivory-colored pages were tucked neatly between the covers, the soothing color could almost make Paul forget the secrets that were trapped between the pages. Out of the top of the notebook a letter jutted out, it’s long rectangular shape was slightly battered from use, and was out of place with the professionalism of the notebook it resided in.

Without opening the notebook Paul pulled out the letter and unfolded it as he had done countless times before. It was from Mary’s law firm and its content described the events that had been haunting Paul every day for the past few weeks. His eyes darted over the contents but never focused on a single word. He had read it enough times to recite the letter from memory. However, there was a single line of the letter that always made him pause no matter how many times he read it.

“Twenty thousand dollars…” Paul’s voice was rough as he muttered those few words. It was an amount of money that many would consider to be life changing, hell it was enough to change Paul’s life. As Paul stared at the numbers written on the letter, he could feel deep emotions coming to life inside of him.

“Twenty thousand dollars,” Paul echoed the line he said only moment before, but this time each word dripped with anger and hatred.

“Twenty thousand fucking dollars!” Paul’s voice boomed and shattered the silence of the empty room. In a fit of rage, he crumpled the letter and chucked it across the room with all his might. Paul watched as the paper ball bounced on the hardwood floor, his anger quickly dissipating with each soft bounce. Just as quickly as the emotions came, they were gone, and Paul was left in silence once more. His chest felt heavy, his mind was clouded with so many thoughts that he felt confused and the stress made him want to tear the skin off his own body. As his eyes fell down to his hands, he once again saw the small back notebook. Somehow, the small object was able to chase away all the stress that plagued him and brought a sense of calm as he was entranced by the cover.

With bated breath Paul moved the back elastic band and opened the hard cover. The contents were a priceless treasure to Paul, the elegant hand writing was beautiful and a work of art as far as he was concerned. The graceful way the ink danced on the page was entrancing, every swipe of her pen had formed a new piece of art that could never be replicated. These words, carefully crafted in her handwriting, would become sentences powerful enough to ensnare any who dared to read them. Those sentences evolved into her memories, the memories that she deemed important enough to be saved and relived at a later time. It was these memories, good and bad, that Paul loved most about the notebook. Somehow the small notebook was able to contain and bring to life the memories that were no longer a part of his world. This notebook was all the pieces of herself she had left behind and as long as he had that notebook, he would always have her.

“They may think that you are only worth twenty thousand dollars,” the tears rolled down Paul’s face as his fingers gently glided over the ink, “But I would pay anything just to have you back here with me.”