I smiled. “Thanks, Marta.”
“Anytime, honey,” she said, giving me a wink.
That evening, I made a small detour after work and found myself in the park again. It wasn’t just because the atmosphere reminded me of Phil. It was because I hated going back to Brent’s lonely apartment. A part of me was still processing the fact that he was in jail and would be for a very long time. My feelings about it were extremely complicated.
I felt so incredibly sad at how much of his life Brent would waste behind bars, but a part of me felt like he needed this lesson. It was the only way he had a chance of becoming a better man.
Mom and Dad had called me a few times over the last week, but they had started throwing blame at everyone but Brent for what had happened. After our last conversations three days ago, I had stopped answering their texts and taking their calls. It was too much for me to handle right now.
So really the only person I had to talk to was Marta, and while I loved her to death, she just wasn’t Phil. I missed him so much sometimes that it actually physically hurt. I sat down on the swings and pulled out my phone as I thought about Marta’s suggestion. She was right, though; we had been friends before we had been a couple.
I decided to just call and check in…keep things as casual as possible, without talking about anything too serious. I dialed in Phil’s number and waited with baited breath.
“Megan?” Phil’s voice sounded a little surprised, and I prayed that he wouldn’t make an excuse and hang up on me after two seconds.
“Hi,” I said nervously. “Are you busy?”
“Been home for a few hours, actually,” Phil replied. “I have a late-night shift today.”
“Oh, okay.” I nodded. “So, you probably need to catch up on your sleep, huh?”
“Well… I slept enough, actually,” he said.
I felt a little blossom of hope. I had given him an easy out if he had wanted to avoid talking to me, but instead of taking it, he had opened up the possibility of a conversation.
“I just called to say…uh…”
“Yes?”
“I just called to say that I watched Silence of the Lambs the other night,” I said.
“You did?” Phil asked, and I noticed his tone change. He had suggested the movie to me months ago, but we had never gotten around to watching it. “And…what did you think?”
“It was a great movie,” I said. “And terrifying.”
“That’s the brilliance of Anthony Hopkins.”
“Anthony Hopkins was scary, definitely,” I nodded. “But Buffalo Bill was pretty damn frightening, as well.”
“More so than Hannibal?” Phil asked, and he sounded perplexed.
“Well… I thought so.”
“What?” he said. “How can you think that Buffalo Bill is more frightening? Hannibal is so…intensely intelligent, not to mention the fact that he happens to be a cannibal.”
“Okay…cannibalism is pretty up there on the horrific scale, but skinning women in order to make yourself skin? I mean, come on, that’s pretty gruesome.”
“He’s eating people!” Phil said indignantly.
I laughed. “I’m not saying it’s not horrible,” I said. “I’m just saying Buffalo Bill was creepier to me, I suppose.”
“Okay, that I’ll grant you,” Phil nodded. “But let’s be honest; who would you be more scared to come across in real life?”
“Both,” I said immediately.
“If you had to choose.”
“Ugh…”