one missed call

one hundred - one

rita's just finished stuffing books and photos into a duffel bag when she hovers over north's desk. on the surface, a blue cellphone lies.

she bites her lip, "i wonder..."

+

she dials and gets answered after the first ring.

"hello? north? you're out of the hospit--?"

"uh this is rita, north's still..."

"oh." he coughs, "um hello rita,"

"you're michaelson, aren't you? you dropped by a few days ago and chatted at the hospital a few times, right?"

"yes. how'd you know?"

"i recognized your voice."

"oh—right, stupid of me."

"i...i hope you don't mind—I was going through my sister's phone and—"

"you read the messages and listened to the voicemails."

"i'm sorry."

"don't be, it's alright."

"it was insensitive of me, it was private."

"secrets never stay hidden, really it's okay."

"i have a question, i mean i read the messages but it still doesn't quite explain why you had to be anonymous."

"there's a lot of history, your brother knows of it—oh i have to go. take care of yourself, rita."

"ditto. thank you for uh—thanks for looking out for north like that though. i never knew it was that bad with her so i'm glad you were around for her."

"she helped me too, in a way she never realized. but thanks rita,"

"sure. alright, umm bye."

"bye,"

the line clicks dead.