A short story by Phoebe
Cassidy would never forget the day Ari died. It was quick and painful.
She was there with her brother. He drove, and she was in the passenger seat.
They were driving home from school, and Cassidy was talking about her day.
“You should have seen Mariam!” Cassidy said, her hands flying up. “Everyone is calling her a madwoman now.”
Ari just laughed. Then he talked about his day. After that, the car went quiet, and Cassidy’s boredom caught up with her, so she started playing a game with Ari while he drove.
Whenever one of them saw a yellow car, they would punch the other on the arm.
Cassidy should have known better.
When she spotted the yellow taxi, she shot her hand out to punch Ari, and he did the same. Their hands collided, and he lost control of the wheel.
Cassidy’s parents didn’t blame her for the accident. They blamed the adult driver, who had changed lanes too quickly, and the teenage driver, who had been taking a shortcut.
The three cars collided and slammed into one another. Cassidy wasn’t sure what Ari had in his bag that was sharp enough to stab him, but his leg jerked up from the impact, and the sharp object tore through the bag and into her brother.
Even with her head pounding and white spots clouding her vision, she reached for him and felt his pain just by touching him.
His pupils darted around, and his hand instinctively reached for his stomach.
“Ari…” Cassidy whispered.
Her brother did not reply. He had a gash on his head from the impact of the glass and steering wheel, but Cassidy didn’t care about her own bleeding wounds.
She only cared about Ari.
And yet, Ari was gone.
It should have been me.
Cassidy reminded herself of that all the time.
It had been two whole months since the accident. The adult driver had died too, and the stupid teenager who had taken the shortcut was still in the hospital.
In a coma.
Good for them.
Cassidy would think to herself.
Although she didn’t blame them, she blamed herself.
Maybe if she hadn’t been playing that game, only the adult driver and the teenager would have gotten hurt.
Not her brother.
After a tense family dinner during which her parents tried to convince her to go to therapy, Cassidy yelled at them and said no.
Then she ran upstairs.
Not to her room.
To the attic.
The attic should have made her break down.
It was where she and Ari used to play with their imaginations.
They would wear silly hats and robes and pretend they lived in the olden days. They used an old telephone in the attic that had long since stopped working, and now it lay there collecting dust.
It seemed to be rusting. It had once been red, but it was slowly turning orange.
Cassidy made it up to the attic and locked the door. She could hear her parents’ muffled voices outside, begging her to come back down.
She didn’t.
She picked up the rusting telephone and pressed the dead buttons, pretending to call Ari.
She imagined the phone ringing.
And ringing.
And ringing.
And ringing…
“Hello?”
Cassidy jumped back.
Someone had answered.
And she knew that voice.
“Ari?” she whispered into the phone.
Her older brother’s laugh filled the room.
“I thought you’d never call.”
Cassidy froze.
Her brother’s voice.
Loud and clear.
Coming through a dead telephone.
Was he alive somewhere, using old devices to communicate?
Maybe his spirit was somehow connected to the telephone.
“Cassidy?” Ari called.
“Y-yeah?”
“Damn, you okay?” he asked. “How have you been?”
Cassidy sighed in relief as she talked about her day and complained about their parents trying to force her into therapy.
Then the routine continued.
Every day, Cassidy locked herself in the attic and talked to Ari for hours on the telephone.
It was almost like things were normal again.
They would ask each other about their days, and Ari always let her talk longer because he knew she always had something to say.
Cassidy tried to explain to her parents that they could talk to their son too, but they looked at her as though she were strange.
They kept giving her worried looks whenever she came out of the attic after one of her conversations with Ari and told them what he had said.
Cassidy didn’t understand why her own parents wouldn’t want to talk to their son.
Maybe he needed to be there in person for them to believe her.
“Ari?” Cassidy called after one of their attic talks.
“Yeah, Cass?”
“Mom and Dad don’t believe me. They think I’ve gone mad.”
“Won’t believe you about what?”
“They think you’re not actually talking to me. But I know you are. You’re doing it right now.”
He stayed silent.
Cassidy could hear his steady breathing.
He was waiting for her to continue.
“Well,” she said, “I was thinking that maybe you should come in person. Wherever you are, you could come and prove to Mom and Dad that you’re alive and real. Plus, I would really love a hug from you.”
“Well,” Ari said with a sigh, “I’ll be damned. What could be more real than this?”
“Yeah!”
The two chuckled.
“Ari,” Cassidy said, “I really want you to come, though. Please?”
“Cassidy, I can’t,” he said, heaviness filling his voice.
“Why? Is it better over there than here?”
“No. I just can’t.”
“Ari, why?”
“I just can’t because—”
Cassidy didn’t let him finish.
Instead, she said something she wished had never come out of her mouth.
“You’re not real.”
The line went silent.
Thunder boomed in the distance, and Cassidy jumped.
“Ari?” she called.
Cassidy punched his number into the telephone again.
Nothing.
Had he hung up?
Could you even hang up on a telephone like this?
Could she send a voicemail?
Or was it supposed to be a telegram?
Cassidy punched Ari’s number in again, more aggressively this time.
He didn’t answer.
“Ari, please answer,” she gasped, repeatedly pressing the numbers as tears poured down her face. “I’m sorry. You’re real. You’re very real. Come back. Come back…”
The attic door lifted open.
Cassidy had forgotten to lock it.
Mom and Dad walked in.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Mom said, trying to approach Cassidy.
Cassidy backed farther into the corner, dragging the telephone with her.
Still pressing Ari’s number, she looked at her parents.
“Look! Look!” she cried. “Ari was talking to me. He stopped now, and he said he couldn’t come home, but he loves you guys! He—he…”
Cassidy choked on her sobs but kept pressing the numbers.
Her vision blurred as her father bent down and gently pulled her hand away from the dial.
The handset slipped from Cassidy’s fingers as her father pulled her into his arms.
Cassidy didn’t know how she fell asleep.
But when she woke up in her room, she rushed back to the attic, taking careful steps so her parents wouldn’t hear her.
Once inside, she immediately felt that something was missing.
The telephone.
She searched everywhere as quietly as she could.
Nothing.
It was gone.
And so was Ari.
Cassidy curled up on the floor beside the dusty outline where the telephone had once sat.
“Ari…” she whispered to the empty room.
Then it all came rushing back to her.
Cassidy cried.
All those conversations had been repeated.
Repeats of real conversations she had once had with Ari when he was alive.
The last one was from when Ari stayed at Grandpa’s house after arguing with Mom and Dad.
Only Cassidy’s words had changed.
His hadn’t.
And somehow, she hadn’t noticed.
Cassidy sucked in a breath as another sob caught in her throat.
Knowing the truth didn’t make her feel better.
It made her feel sick.
Ari wasn’t alive.
And she had to move on.
Cassidy finally released the sob and curled tighter into herself.
“Ari?” she whispered again. “I’m sorry…”
Cassidy wasn’t exactly sure what she was apologizing for until another sob escaped her.
Then she understood.
She was sorry because the last two times she had spoken to him—real or not—
She had never said goodbye.