Millie

“Why did you leave me?”

The old man said. His voice echos in the large, empty home.

“I can’t believe you left me here alone! Why did you leave me? Why did you go? Do you understand what this has done to me?”

The man begins to sob.

Through tears he can hardly get the words out, “I don’t know what I am doing. I’m lost.”

“I’m so confused. I’m so alone. I can’t go on like this!”

His low sobbing voice bounces off the walls. Pictures of him and his wife are scattered around the home. Above the fireplace sits a picture frame that holds two pictures. On the left is a picture of them from their wedding day. On the right is one of them on their 40th anniversary.

“WHY DID YOU GO!”

Memorabilia from vacations, paintings from grandchildren, and a large family portrait are held by magnets on their refrigerator.

“I have no idea what I am doing.” There is a pain in his voice. He is lost, confused, angry as if he is a toddler trying to convey a message he doesn’t fully understand.

“How do I do this?”

“Millie! Please come back to me!”

It’s only been a few days and he is lost without the love of his life. They met at Coney Island after riding the Cyclone. She was scared, screaming the whole time and then giggled with her girlfriends after the ride was over. He, the ride operator, smiled at her. Their eyes met and she walked over to him, abandoning her friends.

“I’m Millie.” She said.

“I’m in love.” He replied.

They spent the rest of the day together, Millie told her friends to leave and that she would be fine. They obliged.

“Please! I’m begging you!” He was yearning for his love.

“I have no idea what I am doing! I don’t know how to survive! I turned the oven on and threw one of those god-awful DiGornio pizzas in there and I overcooked it by three hours. What have you done to me!”

Their three kids have all moved away. One was in Wisconsin, one in Florida, and the last was in London.

“I can’t take this anymore!”

His pleas were heart-wrenching. He was lost at sea, hoping his letter-in-a-bottle would be found by someone.

“Millie,” he said sobbing loudly, “please come back to me.”

He took a long, deep, breath to try and compose himself.

“Come ba -”

“You have reached the maximum length of your message. Please press one if you’d like to leave this one or press two if you’d like to delete it and leave another one.”

“Where is the goddamn two.”

The old man presses two.

“Hey, Millie, please call me back I can’t use this goddamn oven. Hope you’re having fun at your sisters. Love you!”