had to hear what my father had to say. It had been three days since I left the message that we had to talk and this was the first time he returned my call. The first message was Jay. I erased it. The second was a hang up. I erased it. The third!
             ...was my dentist telling me to come in for my root canal next Saturday at 2:00. My father called, but he refused to leave a message. My heart started pounding. My chest felt incredibly heavy. I felt like I just smoked two packs of Camel cigarettes. I couldn't breath. I couldn't hide. There was nowhere to go. He didn't leave a message. I know he wants to talk to me. I know the message I left t him is driving him crazy. Why then am I allowing this to drive me crazy? Shouldn't I be happy that my phone call was eating him up inside? That's what I wanted, isn't it? And then the thought occurred to me: maybe it wasn't eating him up inside. Maybe he just didn't care. Maybe what I've accused him of being for the past twenty-four years of my life doesn't faze him. I was having heart palpitations. I felt dizzy. I couldn't walk any more. I felt nausea. I held on to Jay as I crumbled to the floor. I lost all of my energy. I thought I was going to die. I wanted to di!
             e. I couldn't think of anything my life was worth living for. I thought how Jay would be sad. I thought how my mom and my sister would be sad, but then I said, what about me? I'm always sad. I'm sad every day and nobody notices. Or is it that nobody cares? Jay helped me up and sat me down on somebody's stoop. We weren't in the best of neighborhoods so he didn't want
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