That hurt.
I expected some message.
Even a practical one.
Did you land safely?
I'm sorry.
Anything.
Nothing came.
Two nights after I got home, I was awake around midnight.
The apartment lights were off.
A whiskey bottle sat on the coffee table.
Some movie was playing on television with the volume low.
I wasn't really watching.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I looked at it.
Almost ignored it.
Something made me answer.
"Hello?"
A man's voice.
Rough.
Tense.
"Is this Daniel?"
Every muscle in my body tightened.
"Who's asking?"
"I'm calling about Claire."
I sat upright.
"What about her?"
A pause.
"She's at the hospital."
The whiskey fog disappeared instantly.
"What?"
"She asked me to call you."
I stood without realizing it.
"What happened? Is she okay?"
Another pause.
Then the man said the sentence that made the entire room feel tilted.
"She got into a fight with my wife."
I said nothing.
He added, "My actual wife."
I stared at the television.
"What did you just say?"
"My wife."
"Who are you?"
"You know who I am."
And then I did.
"You're the guy."
"Yeah."
"The pool guy."
"Yeah."
I gripped the phone.
"You're married?"
"Yes."
A bitter laugh came through the line.
"Turns out I'm an even bigger piece of garbage than your girlfriend realized."
"Ex-girlfriend."
"Fair."
My mind struggled to keep up.
"She didn't know?"
"No."
"What happened?"
"My wife came here."
"To the resort?"
"She found out where I was."
His breathing sounded uneven.
"She came to the hotel tonight. Found Claire with me."
I closed my eyes.
"And?"
"They argued."
"Obviously."
"My wife hit her."
I stood completely still.
"Is Claire hurt?"
"Not badly."
Despite everything, relief moved through me.
He continued.
"But Claire lost it afterward."
"What does that mean?"
"Screaming. Throwing stuff. She tried going after my wife. Hotel security got involved."
I rubbed my forehead.
"Police came."
"Jesus."
"They detained Claire."
"What?"
"There's property damage too. Glass table, some hotel stuff. I don't know exactly what's happening."
"Why are you calling me?"
"She gave them your number."
I laughed once.
I couldn't help it.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the absurdity had exceeded whatever emotional capacity I had left.
"She gave you my number?"
"She told me you're her emergency contact."
"She dumped me three days ago."
"I know."
"No, you clearly don't."
"Look, man."
"Don't call me man."
"Fine. Daniel. She's hysterical."
I stared toward our dark kitchen.