Still Can't Sleep? [1200-Character Short Story #5]

My wife, Brooke, has been hospitalized since yesterday. The swelling in the back of her throat wouldn't go down, so she had to undergo surgery and spend about a week in the hospital.

Snow is fluttering over the streets of London. After visiting my wife on her second day of hospitalization, I returned to our empty home in the evening. Unlike usual, I couldn't help but feel lonely in the quiet atmosphere. In the kitchen sink, two mugs I bought during our trip to Poland some time ago were sitting side by side. Both cups, with their dark blue bodies painted with small white flowers, still had a thin layer of coffee left at the bottom.

Five years into our marriage, being alone for the first time in a while, I heated up some frozen fish and chips in the microwave. While waiting, I took a can of Marshall Amped-Up Lager from the fridge, sat in a dining chair, and moistened my throat to distract myself. Just as the microwave gave a small ping, my smartphone rang.

It was an unfamiliar number, so I ignored it at first. It stopped once, but then it rang again. After it had rung a few times, I decided to answer it.

Hello?

Hey, still can't sleep?

It wasn't my wife's voice. I asked, Who is this? The woman on the other end replied, It's me, and asked again, Still can't sleep?

Well, it's only a little past six in the evening. It's not time to sleep yet.

Is that so? Where I am, it's three in the morning.

Well, I'm sorry, but you have the wrong number.

Oh, I'm sorry. But your voice sounds just like Ian's.

Hearing my own name, I was startled. I instinctively replied, That's a coincidence, my name is Ian too.

I'm Brooke, the woman continued. I was even more startled by the name, which was the same as my wife's. There seems to be quite a time difference, but where are you?

London. It's snowing here today.

London! I was born in London too.

But you're not in London now?

That's right, I'm working as an English teacher in Tokyo.

I see. So, who were you trying to call?

As I asked that, I looked at the wall-mounted shelf. A photo taken in Warsaw was displayed in a white frame, and Brooke was smiling next to me.

After a brief silence, she said, Does it matter who? Anyway, I'm sorry. It's been a long time since I made a wrong number call.

For some reason, I felt like telling that stranger on the phone that my wife was in the hospital. But I took a sip of my canned beer and decided against it. Instead, I said, "Don't worry about it. I hope you can get some sleep," and hung up.

I can't bring myself to stand up from the dining chair, even though I'm worried about the fish and chips left in the microwave. The world without my wife feels rough and abrasive. I think about washing the two mugs, but the voice asking, "Still can't sleep?" remains in my ears, and I stay frozen in place.

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