He Won't Pick up

He won't pick up.
I keep ringing and ringing until the line cuts. Then I throw the mobile onto the seat next to me, buried under the magazines and flyers and my overstuffed bag.
He knows my number. I know he does.

Maybe he's away. Maybe he's asleep. Maybe he's sick.

I panic and start to imagine him in some hospital bed, dying of some incurable disease, lost a leg, or maybe just a foot, and asking for me. Or maybe not.

This phone call should have come sooner. It should have been four months ago, or maybe six, since the last time we talked.
I went over to his place, curled up on his couch, and he may or may not have offered me fried chicken for lunch. I can't remember. We talked about my moving to Alex, about his friends and my friends and his girlfriend and my sister. And then I moved out to the coast.
Then nothing.

One of us should have called. One of us should have sent a funny text message or their love through a mutual friend.
He called me his best friend even though I hated his aggressiveness, but then again he was the only one I let treat me that way, hitting me with his mother's velvet pillows, twisting my arm till I begged for forgiveness. I was very meek around him.
He played the guitar for me.

So many times I've driven past his place and written the note inside my head about how I’m sorry but it's not all my fault, we both messed up and maybe he could call me sometime, maybe we could go for coffee, because I’ll be moving back to pick my life up again, and I can honestly see him on my couch, playing guitar and letting me beat him on the head with my big cream cushions.
I want to ask him about his band and if they've made it big yet, and his girlfriend, if they're still together; as much as I like her, I hope they're not.

And of course I won't mention the dreams or the times I have wished he would reach out and grab my hand, instead of my hair, and of course it will never enter my mind, because I miss having him as a friend to cuss and laugh and listen as I whine in my usual female ways, then he tells me to shut up and take it like a man.

But now he won't pick up.
I have his home number but I’m too scared to call and hear him yell: "Tell her I’m not here."

And four days later, I know he has my number but he never did call back.

I think I will try again.