Leaving the Cell

Leaving the Cell

Bobbie wasn’t sure when things had stopped happening to her. She had pictures plastered over the walls of her apartment of her doing things: riding a camel, mountain biking, holding a chicken, at a football game. Proof that things had once happened in her life existed.

           These days, Bobbie liked to wear two different colored socks to mix things up. She winced at that thought. When had she become this pathetic? When had she traded in the friends and adventures? And here she was, on the bus, absolutely berating herself about how things had ended up. Even more pathetic.

Today was Thursday, which meant she was on her way to her Thursday coffee shop to do some work. It was a cozy little space with brick walls and quiet alternative rock playing. The coffee machines and baristas were in the middle of the room, wrapped up by an enclosed square bar, dancing around each other and twirling about their business.

           Bobbie pulled the bus’s stop cord and gathered her things. As she walked through the door of the coffee shop, she inhaled deeply. The smell of freshly ground coffee beans was divine, and it was the thick type of smell that you knew would cling to your hair and clothes for the rest of the day.

Not exactly an original thought, Bobbie thought to herself. Everyone loves the smell of coffee. Fuck, stop being so basic, Bobs. She was just so bored and tired of herself.

           Bobbie said hello to Rex and Shanya behind the bar and made her way to the table she always claimed as her own on Thursdays. Her coffee shop days were always uneventful, filled with computer work that required too much brain power and left her fairly exhausted. These feelings usually ended with her on the couch immediately after work until she fell asleep, only to get up the next day and do it all again.

           There were so many things that she wanted to do and places she wanted to explore that did not involve a computer, work, or her couch. Bobbie wanted to go on adventures, wanted a dog, wanted to even go on dates (her first since Jace), but it all just seemed like so much work and she didn’t want to be held back by responsibilities that came with a pet or a boyfriend. At least that was her excuse, but she already felt as though she was being held back.

It was like she had built herself an invisible cell with walls that not even she could see until she ran into them. The cell walls always saw her avoiding this text or that phone call from friends, running from well-meaning neighbors, and avoiding the eye contact of strangers that walked past in the coffee shop.

           Bobbie sighed. When had she become this person? How had she become so reclusive? Was this who she was now? She glanced around the coffee shop to see if anyone had noticed her existential dread boiling up.

           A phone rang at the table next to hers, jarring in the mostly quiet coffee shop, but still a ringtone that was charming; a bell sequence that made her think of the ocean. The old man at the adjoining table did not seem to notice or mind that he was missing a call. He turned the page in his book and let the phone chime calmly on (from the comfort of his bag, she assumed).

           Should she tell him that his phone was ringing? What if he was hard of hearing and had no idea he was missing a call? What if it was an important call? Bobbie imagined all the horrific possibilities of why this man’s phone could be ringing.

           Bobbie tensed all of the muscles in her leg and prepared to lean over and mention it to the man. It was a simple enough phrase, “Hey! Sorry to interrupt. Your phone is ringing!” She practiced it in her mind, but no words came out.

Maybe she was doing him the bigger favor by not saying anything at all. She didn’t want to bother him. Bobbie sighed, disappointed with the invisible cell she’d built for herself, disappointed with the way she was, and disappointed with life. She opened her laptop to bury herself in work and to shut her thoughts down.

           Bobbie worked steadily through the rest of the day, perfectly content to get lost in the flow of work. She ordered a sandwich around noon from her phone, without talking to anyone, and finished her work for the day a few hours later. Waiting for the bus home that evening, Bobbie silently yelled at herself for having only said hello to Rex and Shanya. She needed to break out and do something. She would never have another adventure if she couldn’t even speak considerately to an old man about a missed call. The ringing cell phone had been the perfect opportunity for a nice, easy intro back into talking to people.

           Bobbie climbed through the tangle of arms and legs in the aisle to the back of the bus. She chose her typical seat and placed her computer bag on the backrest so she could sit on it like she always did. She liked the feel of the computer bag on her lower back, and she didn’t think it would be easy to steal anything from the bag with it behind her like that.

           A gentle chiming startled her almost immediately after sitting. It was the old man’s cell phone again, faint and muffled this time. Bobbie turned to look for the old man, but he was nowhere in sight. It was such a nice ringtone, so different from the buzzer alarm she used on her phone. Someone on the bus must have the exact same ringtone. She smiled, silently congratulating herself. That’s why she had chosen the buzzer, so that no one would have her ringtone. Soon, Bobbie was lost in other thoughts, such that she only barely noted that no one picked up or silenced the cell phone.

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           A day later, Bobbie was in the grocery store near her house, finding something to hold her over for the weekend (maybe a box of cereal…she could live off cereal for two days), when she heard the old man’s cell phone ring again. This time, the phone was close enough to hear perfectly, but no one was in the aisle with her. This time, it was unexpected enough to break through her routine brain fog. This time, she frowned.

           Was she hearing things? Maybe she was having an aneurysm and hearing things. Did ringtones play in your head when you were having an aneurysm? Was it possible that a person in the aisle over had the exact same ringtone as the old man and the person on the bus? Was she being stalked? She was amazed at how fast the panic set in.

           She took a deep breath, trying to calm the mind storm that had cropped up so forcefully. Bobbie turned out of her aisle, looking around the corner for the old man or someone she recognized from the bus. Only an unoccupied cashier waiting at the end of his lane for the next customer was there.

           “Hey. Your cell is ringing,” he said.

           Bobbie looked up, immediately preparing to defend against the surprise interaction.

           “Oh, thanks, but that’s not my phone,” Bobbie said to the bored-looking teenage boy.

“Whatever. It’s coming from your bag.”

           Bobbie’s stomach tickled. “What?” she asked, confused, but realizing he was right.

She shrugged the bag off, unzipped it, and began to rummage around the bottom of the bag, sifting through dirt, pulverized bits of last week’s coffee shop scone, and the occasional sharp paper clip.

           The cell phone had stopped ringing by the time her fingers closed around it. Bobbie didn’t recognize the cell phone, and it was a different make and operating system than her cell phone, more popular and expensive. She touched the screen, showing an incoming call from an unknown caller.

           Bobbie didn’t know what to do. She’d never had something like this happen to her before. The phone quieted as she stood there staring at it.

How had the cell phone gotten into her bag? She never left it unattended…was it on the bus? What if it was a drug dealer or criminal trying to use her backpack as a mule? Was she in danger? No, that was insane to think about. Why did her brain go to extreme hysteria immediately? There had to be a rational explanation…

           Bobbie yelped as the cell phone began to ring again. Unknown caller.

           “You gonna answer it?” the cashier asked. Bobbie shook her head, without looking at him, and walked out of the grocery store.

           She had seconds to decide, seconds before it stopped ringing. Should she answer it? It could help solve the mystery. But what if she was in danger? After another second of anxious agony, she decided she was more curious, and after all, she really did need to start doing brave and daring things like answering cell phones.

           Bobbie took a deep breath, before she could stop herself, and pressed the green answer button.

           “Bee?”

           Bobbie just stood there. It hadn’t occurred to her that the call might actually be for her. But the only person who called her Bee was…

           “Who is this? Whose cell phone is this?” Bobbie asked, trying to sound assured of herself, like she was in the right and not terribly confused.

“It’s Jace,” he said, deflated, like she should have known that the mystery cell phone ringing in her backpack for days was a call from him.

She was silent for a moment. Jace. “How?” she asked dumbly and then mentally beat herself up for such a stupid question.

“It doesn’t matter how,” he said shortly. “I wanted to talk to you. Thought you could use a new phone, too, since yours doesn’t seem to work anymore,” he said in a rushed explanation. This obviously wasn’t what he wanted to talk about. “It’s a nice phone! I thought you’d like it. Look, I just need to see you. Can you meet right now? I really miss you.” His voice came in husky gasps, like he was walking quickly.

“Jace, it’s been…months. Why not just call my phone?” Bobbie asked stupidly again. She knew he couldn’t have called her cell phone. She had changed her number after that last fight. After... Her stomach dropped.

These weren’t the questions she wanted, needed to ask, but her mind was reeling. Jace had found a way to stick a cell phone in her bag. It felt wrong. Why did it feel wrong? It felt like an invasion of her privacy. Was she overreacting? She tended to overreact when it came to Jace. All her emotions were always so chaotic around him, as if they were waiting to explode, but never her words. It sometimes took her days, even weeks to figure out why she was hurt or angry or even to name the emotion she was feeling while they had been together. With him, all her words and reasoning seemed to slip from her mind.

“Let’s just go somewhere and talk, OK?”

Bobbie couldn’t speak. How was this happening right now?

He took her silence as an opening, a yes, like he always had. “Just hold tight. I can meet you! I’m right around the corner!”

“I…around the corner?”

“Yes, I’m around the corner from the store. I’ll be right there,” he said patiently, like she was slow. Bobbie took a deep breath, steadying herself.

“How do you know that I am at the store?” she asked carefully, breaking up each syllable of every word. Bobbie applauded herself silently for a logical and important question. Maybe her mind would clear enough to help her get through this. Jace was quiet for a moment, as if stunned she had found a way to ask this question.

“Find my phone is on the cell I gave you. Just in case you ever needed anything!”

The phone he gave her. Like it was a gift? Like he hadn’t snuck it into her bag? Not that she wanted to be ungrateful…it was an expensive phone, she could tell. But he had assumed…had assumed so much. Bobbie tried to take another deep breath, but her throat felt raw and tight.

Why was this bothering her so much? It felt like the answer was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t think properly. She just needed some time to think.

“C’mon, Bee. Don’t you like the gift?”

Bobbie's blood roared so loudly in her ears that she wondered if she was hearing things again, before remembering that had never been the case. She couldn’t think. Facts just kept repeating in her mind. Jace is on the phone. Jace is around the corner. And he gave me a cell phone?

One thing she could pick out of the mess of her mind was that she felt sick. Her stomach was in knots and her throat felt so tight. Knowing that he had been close enough to touch her, that he hadn’t said anything, that he’d known where she was over the last few days at every second…when she had gotten home…

“Jace, this is crazy,” she said, helplessly.

“It’s not! Look, I’ll be there in five minutes, maybe less, Bee. Just hang tight.”

She needed to find her voice. She needed to decide. She needed to do something. He would be there soon. Bobbie’s heart began to race. What could she do?

“No,” she said quietly. “No.”

“Bee,” he said sternly, almost scolding.

“No!” Bobbie shrieked, drawing the attention of more than one person. She didn’t even care. Bobbie tapped the end call button, set the phone on the bench outside the store, and fled, leaving the cell behind.