Ficly

The Phone Call

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jud”

He was instantly awake.

“Maggs.” It was a statement, not a question. He hadn’t heard her voice in twenty years, but he recognized it in those two words. No one ever called him Jud but her. Even Dana had called him Judson. An odd sort of warmth flooded over him—feelings more than memories.

“Listen, I heard what happened to Dana. I’m really sorry.”

Judson sighed. He was tired of hearing the meaningless platitudes people say when you lose a loved one. “If there is anything I can do…” As if. Or,“It’s all part of God’s plan.” Really? God planned for my wife to die a slow and painful death? To leave our kids without a mother? To take away my best friend. God planned that, did he? What kind of a God would do that? Certainly not a loving God. Not a God worth worshiping.

He awaited the inevitable and prepared a polite and equally meaningless reply.

“I know this has been hard on you,” she said. “Why don’t we meet for dinner tomorrow night? My daughter can babysit. You talk. I’ll listen.”

This story has no comments.