Sorry I'm not home right now
I'm walking into spiderwebs
So leave a message
And I'll call you back
A likely story, but leave a message
And I'll call you back."
-No Doubt, "Spiderwebs"

*****

"This is Michael. Speak."

I've grown really accustomed to hearing his voice like this. Harsh. Sharp. Indifferent. I wonder if this message is for me? I mean, to tell the truth, the first time I ever called Michael, I expected to hear "Record a message here." Or maybe Isabel saying in a really bubbly voice, "You have reached the Guerin residence. No one is available to take your call." But instead I was confronted with Michael's voice, gruffly informing the world of his existence and then commanding me to speak.

"Hi Michael, this is Maria. I was just on my way to practice. You know, Alex has this weird idea about matching outfits or something. It's like, I don't think that the boy gets that I'm the sex appeal. I mean, hello, ornament! I am not going to stand up there in front of everyone looking like Alex. Love him though I do, that boy has zero fashion sense."

It's sounds moronic, doesn't it? But I sort of ran out of ideas of what to say within the first week of this. I mean, at first it was easy. "Michael, this is Maria. You know, that girl that you love." I felt that it was always a good idea to remind him that he said it first. To remind him that he said it at all. Because if he hadn't said it, if he had just walked away like I'm sure he wishes he had, I might have given up. Contrary to popular opinion, I really don't like being walked all over. I don't enjoy loving people who refuse to love me back. But he does love me back.

He loves me. That thought has kept me awake and glowing many nights. He loves me. Not the other way around. I mean, yes, the other way around, but it doesn't have to be. I can choose at any moment to say I love you or I don't. That is still an option for me. It's not an option for him. He loves me and he can't take it back.

So, anyway, that sort of message got old after a while. So I started talking to his machine, having actual conversations with it. I talk about current events, music, sports, life, death- whatever pops into my head.

Usually my conversations with myself end the same way. "If you grow a spine, give me a call. Because running is not a solution, Michael. You can't just push me to some corner of your mind and pretend that I don't exist. I'm here and I'm not leaving."

Or something of that effect. I never say goodbye. Ever.

A couple of times, it got to me. And I said in this soft, pathetic voice, "I miss you." I didn't mean to. I didn't want to say that to a machine. I didn't want to sound like I was doing all of this because I had too. I wanted to always sound in control. But it couldn't be helped. Because I do miss him. I feel like my skin is missing without him. Like I'm walking around, bare to all of the elements, hoping to get eaten alive by something. I suppose that thought should bother me. But I don't really care. Either my warrior would save me, or I would end this miserable existence. Both ideas have appeal.

I wonder what I would do if he picked up the phone? I've grown accustomed to talking to myself. Of informing him of what he is feeling. And I'm making tapes. Someone, somewhere, will someday know that Michael loved Maria and that Maria missed him.

If he lets go of this, if he stops loving me, I'll have this. I'll have tangible proof that he did love me. That this feeling did exist between us. That in spite of not having any Max and Liz staring, soulmate moments, we did love each other. It is all captured on tiny little tapes, my rambling and his silence.

The silence should tell me something. But Michael is always quietest when he is the most vulnerable. His silence speaks volumes. He misses me. If he didn't, he would pick up the phone and deal with me.

So, in this sad, confusing little world that I have built, I like that Michael is ignoring me. Because he's not ignoring me. That's what Max can't seem to wrap his mind around. Liz *is* ignoring him. She has reasons for it, but it's true. Michael is not ignoring me-he is pretending to ignore me, which is different.

I'm holding onto silence. The further we get into this, the more I realize that is true. Michael loves me the most when he's quiet. I love him the most when I'm rambling, trying to fill all of his silences with sound. The more I talk, the more this grows between us. So I'm not going to stop. I'm going to keep rambling until...well, until something happens.

It's absurd, I know. If this were anyone else, I would be having a fit. Sitting around, waiting on a guy-that is so not Maria DeLuca. But this is all that I have of him. I love him. He didn't give me a chance to say it. He didn't give me a chance to do anything. So I have to hold onto what little I have. He said it once and that is all that it took. I hold onto that like he meant it-like he would die for me and kill for me. Like he's blowing up rocks just for my benefit.