The phone is ringing, surprised as it’s early. It was my mother.
“Jordan”…..
There was a long pause. An eerie silence. Usually when my mom calls me, she’s perkily asking me about my classes, berating me about yet another unpaid parking ticket that came in the mail, or complaining that my little brother hasn’t mowed the grass recently. Mom stuff. But this time it was different. There was a pause. Maybe a few seconds. But those few seconds were enough for me to realize that something was off. Something was wrong. Instead of her affectionate and sometimes nagging voice, all I could hear was the sound of my air conditioner blowing in the background.
She said his name.
I wasn’t there with her. But I could hear the tears. My mom usually speaks with energy, whether that energy comes from being upset with me for doing something stupid or eagerness to talk about visiting her friend, it doesn’t matter – there’s always a certain energy in her voice. When you know someone like that, shit, the first person who ever spoke words to you the moment you opened your eyes in this world, you know when something’s up. You know every normal vocal inflection and what it means.
When I heard her say his name, I knew there were two emotions running through my mother’s soul, audibly permeating through her voice – anxiety and sorrow.
Soze Media 