The Quiet Fires

The Last Call

There's a payphone on Route 9 that nobody uses anymore.

Not broken.

Just… there.

Sitting in a gravel pull off where the trees lean in close enough that the sun only hits it for about an hour each afternoon.

Most people don't even see it.

GPS takes you past too fast, and there's nothing else around to slow down for.

But if you stop…

if you actually pull over and walk up to it…

you'll notice the receiver's warm.

Not hot.

Just warmer than it should be.

Like someone just hung up.

I found it by accident.

Car overheated on a summer drive, steam pouring out from under the hood, and I coasted into the pull off before the engine gave up completely.

No cell signal.

Not a bar.

I was about to start walking when I saw the phone.

Old style. Metal booth half rusted. Cord still attached.

I picked up the receiver.

Dial tone.

Clear as anything.

I called AAA.

Got through on the first try.

They said they'd send someone in forty minutes.

I hung up.

The phone rang.

I stared at it for a second.

Didn't make sense.

Nobody had this number.

I didn't even know it had a number.

It kept ringing.

I picked up.

Static at first.

Then a voice.

Male.

Older.

"You still there?"

I said yeah.

"Good," he said. "Thought I lost you."

I asked who this was.

He didn't answer right away.

Just breathed.

Then…

"You called from this phone before?"

I said no. Just now. First time.

He was quiet again.

"That's not right," he said.

I asked what he meant.

"I've been getting calls from this number for three years."

I didn't say anything.

The line crackled.

He kept talking.

"Always the same. Someone picks up. Doesn't say much. Then hangs up before I can ask anything."

I told him I didn't know what he was talking about.

He laughed.

Not mean.

Just… tired.

"Yeah," he said. "That's what they all say."

I asked who "they" were.

He didn't answer.

Just said…

"If you're still there in forty minutes, don't pick up when it rings again."

Then he hung up.

I stood there.

Receiver in my hand.

The dial tone came back.

I set it down carefully.

Like it might do something if I wasn't gentle.

I waited by the car.

Checked my phone every few minutes even though I knew there was no signal.

Thirty minutes passed.

The payphone rang.

I looked at it.

Didn't move.

It rang six times.

Then stopped.

The tow truck showed up right on time.

Guy was friendly. Didn't ask much.

Hooked up the car and told me to hop in.

As we pulled out, I looked back at the phone.

The receiver was off the hook.

Hanging by the cord.

Swaying slightly.

I didn't mention it.

I haven't driven that route since.

But sometimes…

late at night when it's quiet…

I think about that pull off.

And wonder how many people stop there.

How many pick up.

And how many of them

hang up in time.