Three Cents A Minute

    My name is Mark Cargill. This is the story of how a nightmare came true. This is my story.

    It was cold for a summer night. I remember that. I stood at the corner, listening to the night air around me, not a sound but for the wind. My skin was prickly as the breeze once again swept around me, chilling me to the bone, my green shirt and black pants quite thin and were no defence.
    Where the fuck is that taxi? I thought. It was two in the morning and I had just finished a seven hour shift of nightfilling, my body ached from the pain. There, in the distance lights shone, growing closer, my taxi home. "Thank God," I muttered as the taxi pulled up.
    "Mark?" came the dry, rusty voice of the driver.
    "Yeah.  12 Frank Street Tillingham, please."
    "Frank Street, gotcha."
    I hopped in the car, strapping myself in, looking forward to getting home, eating my reheated dinner and going to bed. I paused in my thoughts, pulling out my phone. It would be near midday in America, the perfect time to call Lynn. Yes, I thought to myself, I'll give her a call when I get home; give me something nice to go to sleep on.

    The wind was cold around us, and I was nervous. This girl next to me, alone, by the fire with me, was something I did not fully understand. She was beautiful, I thought, and just a little bit drunk. I wondered how to make the first move, since my first moves usually involved a sexual joke, and I knew that I did not want to lose my chance with this girl. She was worth more.
    We huddled together, and I smiled, watching her play with her phone, thinking to myself what an age we live in, where up on a mountain we can play with technology. An age, I knew, to which only part of me truly belonged.
    "You know Lynn, we're up on the mountain, in the splendor of nature, and here you are, playing with your phone!" I laughed, still so close.
    She giggled and put her phone away. "It's fun."
    "I bet."
    All of a sudden my pocket, or to be more precise, my phone vibrated, and I could not resist, I had to check it, such a slave to the modern times I am. It was a message.
    "Do you know how hard it is not to kiss you?" it read. I read it twice, and then checked the sender.
    Lynn.
    I thought of every response I could think of, and then, knowing that the truth would serve me best as always, I simply turned to her. "Don't let that stop you."
    Our kiss was broken minutes later by the catcalls of our friends getting back from their hike.

    The taxi pulled up, and I thought it a good sign he did not make me pay full fare, as I was a relatively regular customer.
    "See you around," I told him.
    "You too, mate," he replied, before driving off.
    The air was still cold, and my aching hands fumbled for my keys, trying to remember just exactly what angle to turn them in the semi-broken lock, which was now doubly secure since the damage done to it by someone tripping. I got inside, and the house was black. I was thankful my key-ring had a torch attached. I could hear my father's breathing machine in my parent's bedroom, the apparatus making him sound like Darth Vader when he had it on. It helped him breathe in his sleep apparently. I would not know; I rarely slept these days.
    I went to my room, leaving my name-tag and other non-clothing items in there, then grabbed my robe and headed to the shower. The shower was only lukewarm, which annoyed me greatly, but it was now a quarter to three and I was looking eager to my chat with Lynn. With boring days, horrible work and the slowly healing emotions in my family, she really was the highlight of my life.

    I was happy; I had just walked Lynn to class, and had some polite fun on the way, though god knew I planned to have more than just polite fun with her at some point. I finally walked back to the common room near the cafeteria.
    "Hey," called Jess as I returned, "did I just see you holding hands with a girl?"
    I opened my mouth to respond, but was interrupted by another female voice.
    "Didn't you know, Mark has a girlfriend now." Thank you Amy, it was the first time many of them had heard about Lynn, though if truth be told, it would also be the first time anyone had called Lynn my girlfriend.
    "What?" came a collective exclamation from my friends. The look on Alice's jaw-dropped face would probably best summarise the reaction from my friends.
    I smiled, and told them Lynn and I were together now, and while there were a myriad of questions, most of which I forgot the second Lynn came back from class, we all laughed and enjoyed Alice's terrific Toblerone cake she had made for Emily's birthday.
    As the hours we spent laughing and chatting went by I was keenly aware of Lynn's proximity, and I could not get the smile from my face. For the first time in years I truly was happy.
    When Lynn and Amy left to go to their self-defence class I said my farewells for now as Dean, my friend first and cousin second, and I decided to head back to our part of the Valley, chatting and laughing as he drove.
    Once more, I found myself unable to remove Lynn from my mind.

    I looked at myself in the mirror as I finished drying myself off from the shower, noting that I would definitely need to get that hair cut tomorrow, and thought I might once again attempt the five month task of growing a goatee and moustache. I was not a hairy man, except for my head, which would grow to untamable lengths if not managed.
    Heading to the fridge I saw the meal that my parents had, quite thankfully, left for me. Lamb roast with a side of salad and Alfredo pasta, the packet kind. Setting it to reheat, I grabbed a can of Pepsi from the box next to the fridge, and set it on the coaster next to my computer. I was rather partial to having drinks on coasters in my room, mainly since the desk was Rebecca's, my sister's. Rebecca would have kicked my ass if I ruined that desk.
    I heard the ding of the microwave, and grabbing a knife and fork, I took my meal to my room, as I am a noisy eater and did not want to wake the slumbering giants with whom I reside, sick as they are, and  proceeded to log into my computer using my password, lynn. It was not original, but it served to remind me not to forget her, or her name, which I have done in the past thanks to my inability to accurately remember anyone's name. I still remember the time I forgot my own name when a police officer asked if I'd been drinking.
    The screen booted up, loading the various gadgets and other things I required to survive, including dual clocks, one for here, and one for America. A gadget that let me know how much the Australia dollar was worth in regards to the US dollar, and my various folders and programs. All of this was set against a sepia background of Lynn and me, perhaps my all-time favorite photo.
    I decided to watch some Futurama while I ate, thinking it would be rude to call her while I was eating.

    Lynn and I stepped out of the taxi, she was looking glamorous in her long pink dress, and myself suitably formal in my black suit with a pink tie. We smiled, the university was holding a prom night, and Lynn, myself and several of our friends had decided to attend, after all, we were well known throughout the university, mainly as part of a group of loud-mouthed misfits, but still, well known.
    The night was a hit, the ladies dressed to the nines, including one rather aggressively suggestive piece from the infamous Latex Girl, a promiscuous girl my friends and I had never learned the name of, and the guys were decked out in suits. We took many photos that night, most of which I would later post on online for my friends to see on Facebook. But perhaps the most amusing thing I remember was when my young, innocent friend Andrew, whom many assumed was unworldly, rocked up with two, that is correct, two girls. We officially regarded him the pimp of the evening.
    Dean spent most of the night fleeing from the attentions of Mary, a friend of ours who was highly interested in him for one thing, while he was interested in her for another. A good match, but one that could not be. Several times he told me he'd get me for trying to set them up, and I knew he would be good to his word, even though my eyes were glued to the pink-clad Lynn on the dance floor.
    I was not much of a dancer, and in many ways never will be, my movement skills are better suited for a different arena. However, there has always been one surefire way to make me dance, and once up I do not stop. That would be of course, the Time Warp, because a jump to the left is all you ever need. Once I began dancing the night went faster, though a call from my father did interrupt me once, while he updated me on my mother's medical condition at hospital. Then back to the partying.
    The night wore on, and while Dean and I counted six girls leaving in tears (two of which were our friends who we cajoled into coming back) a great time was had. Finally the night came to the point of awards, and Lynn, beautiful Lynn, was given the Least Likely to Win an Award award. We all laughed at this, and I relaxed as prom king and queen were about to be announced, as I knew the winners would be members of the student unions, none of which I am part of.
    "Your Prom King... Mark Cargill!" came the announcer's voice, and I do believe I felt my jaw drop.
    Only photos remind me of what happened next, for the next thing I remember was Dean driving us back to Lynn's before crashing at a hotel. Lynn and I smiled and waved him off, while Mary and Peta went to crash in the double bunk bed. I then remember one last thing from that night, and that was pulling my phone from my pocket and playing "Forever", Lynn's favourite song, which we did one final waltz to.
    Then, romantic things we were, we headed to bed.

    I finished my meal, still savouring the taste of the delicately seasoned meat and the tang of the balsamic vinegar in the salad. I do not consider myself a gourmand, but I do believe in eating nice food, primarily because I pretend at times to be upper-class, a trait many others see in me, even if the truth was rather simple: I am a fat slob who dresses nicely. Still in my silk robe and boxers, an altogether seductive piece, the former of which I had not worn for years before I met Lynn, I went to the kitchen, placing my dirty plate and cutlery in the dishwasher before turning it on.
    Finally, I thought, I can call Lynn.
    Heading back to my computer, I smiled wistfully, wondering when she would finally decide to use her webcam, just so I could see her face again. I remember the first time I told her to be careful when she was swimming, as her make-up would run. When she had informed me that she was not wearing any, my jaw dropped and all I could say was just how beautiful she was. Her ash-blonde hair, much like my own. Her green-blue hazel eyes. Her shapely lips, which I must admit, were very good at many things. But I remember more than her face. Perhaps the thing I remember the most was how soft her skin felt against mine.
    I opened up Skype to call her, since it was less than three cents a minute to call her phone using my computer, compared to the five dollars a minute using my phone. As it opened up my joy grew, soon I would be hearing her voice again. As I selected her to call, I was greeted by a photo ID of her, an older picture, set against what I presumed was her home in America, and of course, she was looking positively delicious in a black tank top and white sunglasses.
    I smiled, and pressed the "Call Mobile" button.

    I got to Amy's early, mainly because I was bored at my own place and also because I loved spending time with Lynn. This would be the first Halloween I had decked myself out for in some time, which is sad, because I was a theatre student. Originally, my plan had been to dress myself as Death, which would have killed me as it was a particularly hot night and the costume was heavy cloth and rubber. Luckily, with some help from Peta, I was soon decked out as something similar to a simple goth, or as a real horrorshow from A Clockwork Orange. Steve's top hat would make the costume perfect later on.
    I know it is a question as old as Halloween itself, but why must women turn their costume, whatever it is, into a slutty costume? Seriously, Lynn, I spent most of my evening trying not to deck the other guys. Lynn, of course, had dressed herself in a very revealing hula girl outfit, and while I did not notice at the time, photos would later reveal me to be scowling.
    The night had its fair share of drama, though Andrew dressed as the Joker was a highlight, as was Dean as Wolverine. However, the costume that one the prize was my closest friend, Tony, dressed in drag as a fairy. Truly a night to remember.
    We had great fun that night, and these random strangers came to our party dressed as police officers… wait, those were not costumes. Ah well, not my problem I thought at the time, Amy and Eric should have thought ahead before agreeing to have a blow-out party. A callous thought, but one that seemed to work for me. However, for some strange reason, the looming date of Lynn's departure to America was in the back of my mind, and I knew somehow it was showing in my behavior. Eventually, just to relax, I went outside for a breather.
    Big mistake.
    Dean, drunk as drunk could be, decided on following me and telling me all about the likelihood of Lynn and I surviving a long-distance relationship. I still do not know how he did not end up on the ground with a black eye. This would lead to me doing something remarkably stupid. I left the party, only quietly mentioning I was going for a walk. I walked around the block for an hour, not realising people were missing me. Oops.
    Two days later Lynn and I discussed our relationship, and I finally made a decision, one to which she agreed. We would survive the long-distance. We would last.
    It would be the first time she told me she loved me.

    "Hey, this is Lynn, I can't get to the phone right now, but if you want, leave your name and number and I'll get back to you," came the cheerful recorded voice.
    I swore. Seeing as how I rarely even got a text message from her, I knew she would not call back, thanks to exorbitant charges. The high charges on her end were also a blessing though, as it gave me warning if anything bad happened. Basically, I knew her well enough to know that if she called me, it was because something big had happened, which meant I could relax until then.
    I sat there, almost three o'clock in the morning, realising I had never felt the need to stay up for someone before. Love, I thought, is a blessing and a curse, both of which I was glad to have.
    This is not to say I was bored. No, I was preparing one of her birthday presents, which was the following Monday, the main one of which was going to be a big surprise. The second one I was working on gleefully, a very smutty short story about her and me and a prelude to all the wild sex we were going to have when I got to America in just less than twelve months. I enjoyed writing it, and an amused voice in my head told me I was just a little too good at writing erotic literature. Was I secretly a fan of romance? No, I thought, my fandom was no secret to anyone.
    As I finished writing a rather sensual paragraph, one that began with my kisses going from her neck and past her full breasts, stopping at each to caress both nipples before continuing downward, I decided that I should perhaps call her again.
    Once again, I clicked the "Call Mobile" button.

    Thanksgiving 2009 would not be a happy occasion for me. In truth, the one thing I had to be thankful for was soon to leave my life for over a year. Still, that did not stop Lynn from throwing a party I would remember forever. She spent all day preparing, and I tried to help, though if I were to be honest, I was too busy distracting her. I was in love, and like all men my age, I was as randy as a goat.
    Perhaps part of my distracting behavior was my knowledge of her going in just over a week. Perhaps part of it was because I thought the notion of having a roast dinner with all the trimmings in the middle of an Australian summer was, if I am allowed be blunt, remarkably stupid. Perhaps part of it was because I thought she needed to take life a little less seriously.
    But despite my attempts to woo her onto Amy's sofa couch, she was able to resist my considerable charms. Apparently "Let's shag on the sofa" is not a good line to use. Well, it was before, and she had the leather-burn scar on her knee to prove it. She was too worried about burning the turkey, which I have to admit, was perfect, and even if she had burnt it, the guests were university students. We were just glad for a free feed, and the fact this one was not microwaved or takeaway was just icing on the cake.
    After the dinner, and the raucous behavior that followed, where I spied Dean and one of my other female friends flirting, people began to head home. It was at this point I remember whispering to Lynn the idea of going for a walk, which she agreed to.
    I would like to say that during this walk we found somewhere remote to frolic and enjoy each other intimately, but actually, it was not that happy of a walk. All we did was chat about how much we would miss each other. I got very choked up, and so did she. There were even tears in our eyes. But as sad as I was, part of me was not bereaved. Perhaps it was shock, but I wonder if maybe there was a part of me that was trying to protect my aching heart by not letting me feel the pain by not feeling the love.
    Perhaps I will never know.
    After a time, and I say that because I do not remember exactly how long we were gone, we returned to Amy's.
    This was a pain I did not know how to deal with. I had opened my heart to her, given it to her; I just hoped it did not get broken in transit to America.
    Later, out of boredom and an emotional exhaustion I have only felt rarely in my life, I climbed into the bed offered. I do not remember if Lynn joined me, though I do remember an all too real kiss on the lips in my dreams, feeling the gaze of the blue-green hazel eyes.

    Skype is an interesting program, which for some strange reason insists on making dial tones when calling, even though it is using a whole new technology. I sat there, at my computer, in my scant clothing, listening.
    "Hello?" came the voice I had longed to hear.
    "Lynn? Can you hear me?" I asked. I always asked that, because I was dealing with a temperamental microphone.
    "Oh, hey Mark!" she said, and I smiled, hearing the joy in her voice, though something sounded strained to me, though I presumed it was because it was eleven in the morning her time, and she was a night worker like me.
    "Hey Lynn, how's it going?"
    "Good, you?"
    And so began our conversation. Here we were, separated by land and sea, and just a fair bit of time, and we began our conversation like ordinary friends. Part of that made me smile. Part of that made me sad. She meant more to me than a friend, and yet all I could manage was this polite talk. Was I truly so bad at relationships?
    It strikes me odd that, considering how much I had looked forward to hearing from her, I do not remember what was said during that conversation. I suppose that is because I was not really interested in talking to her, just in hearing her voice, my respite from a chaotic lifestyle.
    I began hearing a strange sound on the line, wondering what it was.
    "Hang on, I think I'm getting another call," she said.
    "That's cool."
    I waited a minute, smiling happily, and I was so glad that no one could see the love struck expression on my face.
    "Hey Mark, can I put you on hold for a minute? I just need to answer this."
    Thinking about my scant money, money I was saving up so I could visit her for Christmas and New Years Eve, I answered. "Yeah, but I might just hang up so I don't waste money. Text me when you're done and I'll call back, sweetie."
    "Cool. Text you soon."
    I hung up, and waited.

    I sat in the hotel room, relaxing, having booked and gotten the hotel room as a final gift for Lynn and myself. It is with a smile on my face that I remembered how adamant I was about getting the spa-bath room. Sure it cost extra, but Lynn was worth any price as far as I was concerned.
    There was a knock on the door and I opened it, seeing Lynn in the doorway, I immediately embraced her, holding her close. Once again my memory eludes me exactly what we did for a good hour, but I hope it was something fun. However, eventually we were getting dressed for a final date in Australia for just her and me. I tried very hard to keep my jaw attached when she finished getting dress, though I am sure I did not succeed.
    Dinner was a nice, quiet meal at a pizzeria that makes traditional wood-fired pizzas. I loved Italian food, a remnant of years spent having pasta and pizza when my father travelled the area working, leaving my mother to raise three kids under the age of ten. After dinner Lynn and I went for a walk along the wharf, and up to the break-wall of Nobby's Lighthouse. The surf was calm, which was a shame, as wild surf always calls to a part of me, a wild, willful part of me which I rarely admitted was there.
    I remember holding her in my arms as we stood in the darkness, the water around us, just her and me, no one else in the world.
    "I love you," I said.
    "I love you," she replied.
    After some time which is frankly none of anyone else's business, we headed back to Hamilton for some Cold Rock ice-ream, as well as a half hour spent in a porn store, the latter which had nothing within our price range which could not be achieved just as easily with a tie and some knowledge of rope-tying.
    Another hour passed and we returned to the hotel room, though we stopped at her favorite place in Newcastle before we went back, and I knew at that point that Lynn and I would last.
    As we got into the hotel, we began running the spa-bath, which would feel good on my leg, which was permanently scarred from an infection. Lynn poured us some peach wine, which I pretended to enjoy, though personally I cannot stand wine. I prefer vodka, bourbon and rum.
    And being the rum loving guy I am, we turned on the television to watch Pirates of the Carribean: At World's End while we soaked. Once the movie finished, we smiled, and we began some late night entertainment of our own.

    I was bored waiting for Lynn to text back, wondering if she would, but I did not put my time to waste, instead continuing the erotic story I was writing for her, a story which I would never publish, and a story that would be emailed to her.
    As 'Markus', the handsome and witty jester who had seduced the noblewoman 'Lynnelle' while she visited a foreign kingdom, began to make her scream in ecstasy due to the sensation of his member in her I felt my desk vibrate, due to the silent text message my phone had received.
    "You can call back, if you still want to," it said.
    What sort of question is that, I asked myself, of course I want to call her back!
    Soon the sound of Skype making an artificial ring-tone filled my ears, and I waited with baited breath, hoping she would answer. With a glance to my clock I realised it was half past three. No wonder I felt drained.
    "Hello?"
    "Hey Lynn, you miss me?"
    "Nup. Just kidding."
    We joked on for several more minutes, my fingers dancing on the keyboard as I finally finished the story of Markus and Lynnelle. I debated on sending it to her right then and there, then thought against it, deciding to send it on her birthday instead.
    "So I've been thinking," she suddenly said.
    My heart skipped a beat, but I my mind did not miss one. "That can't be a good sign."
    To my relief, she laughed. "Why do guys always say that?"
    I gave it two seconds thought. "Generally, it's because the girl then asks to break up or try and get pregnant. Both of which make men run for the hills."
    She laughed once more, and again I caught the strain in her voice. I steeled myself, realising the nightmare I had been having since she left was about to come true. "But you didn't sound so morbid, so, what were you thinking?"
    There was a pause, during which I swear I could hear a voice in my head screaming in rage, as the beast in me began to rattle it's cage.
    "I've been thinking it might be best if we were just friends."
    There is a moment, just one fleeting moment, when the woman you love breaks your heart so hard that you can actually hear the sound of it breaking, and it does not sound like breaking glass, no, it sounds quite similar to a death rattle. I actually found myself at a loss for words.
    She continued. "I don't know if it's the distance or anything, but my feelings have… changed. I'm really sorry to drop this on you but – "
    "Don't be sorry," I said. "I can't fault you for having free will." The truth was that I did not want to hear her say she was sorry for anything. I stammered a few words, but she just went on.
    "I still want to be friends."
    After you broke my heart?
    "And I hope still you call me."
    You never called me.
    "I – "
    "I'm going to head to bed, it's almost four here."
    "Yeah… ok."
    And I hung up.

    We were at the airport. Most of us were sleep deprived, having spent the night at Amy's being tools, just to keep Lynn's morale up, though both her and I were straining to show joy. An exhausted Amy was beginning to anger me with her constant bitching at my manic behaviour, until I told her I'd shout her lunch if she would just shut the fuck up. My exact words now that I think about it.
    Time passed, and I helped Lynn get her bags into the terminal, both exceptionally heavy and I could only joke and pray mine would not be that heavy when I went to visit her. The thought of holding her in my arms again after that long twelve months made me smile, as did the idea a short erotic story I was thinking about writing.
    I held her close to me as the minutes passed, each one threatening to take my beloved Lynn away, and part of me wondered if I would ever see her again, though I did my best to remind myself we would last.
    Dean, Jake, Peta and Amy all tried to cheer us up, but it became obvious Lynn was struggling, tears were openly sliding down her face. I know they tried to cheer me up, and I smiled for them, knowing they were struggling too. Here we were, these great friends, all showing the better parts of humanity, which I struggle to show any part of at any time.
    Finally the time came when Lynn would have to go through to the boarding area, an area none of us could follow. I stood back, letting everyone say their tearful farewells to Lynn; Amy and Peta were openly weeping and even Dean and Jake had teary eyes. I pale to think how I looked.
    And then she turned to me.
    "I love you, Mark," she told me.
    "I love you too," I told her.
    "I'll keep in contact, I promise, once I get my internet up and running."
    "I know, and if you can't get to me, I'll get to you. I love you so much Lynn."
    Without another word, her arms were thrown around me, and I knew mine held her to me firmly, our lips together one last time, lips I would never forget. I then smiled in our kiss. My hands slipped downwards, and with an impish delight, I groped her delightful derriere, to which she jumped back with a look of mock shock.
    "I won't say goodbye, Lynn, because this is not goodbye. I'll see you later, I promise."
    "I love you too, Mark."
    As my own sad soap opera finally came to its end, I finally let her go, knowing she had to leave me. As she got to that doorway and disappeared, I felt an emptiness inside my chest, knowing that she had taken my heart with her.
    She was gone.