A Thing Of Beauty (Fred)
Fred says
I know you don’t want to pick up the phone because you know it’s me, but I really wish you would. Marie? It’s your father, Marie. I mean, I understand. I do. It’s just, sometimes when I stop to get something to drink–No, not that kind of drink–I don’t -not now–but some water or something. I go hours and hours without eating sometimes but you have to stop now and again. But what I was saying, whenever I stop working these days, you’re the only think I think of. If I’m honest with myself, most of my work is about you. I want to hear from you. I want to hear your voice. Maybe you’ll call me or maybe next time I call, you’ll pick up. I won’t be around forever. I’m not dying. That’s not what this call is about, but I’m not young anymore either. I was hoping -anyway, give me a call if you can. I talk to your mom sometimes. We’re talking again. She says you’re doing really well. She’s proud. I’d like to be proud too if you’ll let me. Call me if you…
(The phone beeps signaling the end of the message.)