The Voice on the Line

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"Ding-Dong."

Vincent winced as he straightened his back, leaning heavily on the cane in his right hand. He held the flowers he had purchased carefully in the crook of his left arm, fresh cut yellow roses wrapped in glittering cellophane. She had told him, once, that yellow roses were her favorite.

She had told him a lot of things, and he remembered them all. Every word she had ever spoke to him was permanently imprinted in his mind, every letter she had written him, every laugh that had come drifting down the wires to him after one of his jokes. They had kept him going when all other hope was lost. She was his guardian angel, and he was finally going to meet her face to face.

"Ding-Dong," went the bell again. She had said she would be home today, waiting for him. They had both been nervous during their last call, neither one sure of the wisdom of what they were doing. All they knew was they needed each other, and that the time had finally come.

Vincent had first heard from her two weeks after leaving with his unit for their first tour of duty, through a program the military had introduced where volunteers would write to soldiers as a way to keep their spirits up. With no family, and little to look forwards to once the war was over and he returned home other than a cheap efficiency apartment and neighbors who would not have missed him, Vincent's spirits were in desperate need of the hope that her letter had brought him. Someone he had never met had cared enough to write him a letter. Soon they were trading messages almost weekly, and when his unit reached a station with reliable phones, Vincent worked up the courage to dial the number she had sent him.

Her voice had been so beautiful, and all too soon the ten minutes he had been limited to were gone, and he could not wait for the next opportunity to call her again. And he did, as often as possible. Even after the explosion that took his leg below the knee, and permanently blinded him on his right side, he held on through the pain in the hope of hearing from her again.

"Ding-Dong." He knew she would be down soon. The military had no more use for him, but she had not stopped caring. His return home had brought more pain, both from his aching body and the financial crisis, but at least he could talk to her every day, the one light in his world of shadows. Then she had stopped calling. She had grown distant, and Vincent had become convinced he had said or done something wrong. How could she love a broken, useless ex-soldier? How could anyone love someone like him?

After almost a month of silence, Vincent had decided to end it. He had spent the last money in his account to purchase the cheap .38 special he had held in his shaking hand. No note, no will, no one to remember the empty husk of a man he had become. But something inside urged him to try just one more time, so with a heavy heart he had picked up the phone and dialed.

And she had answered.

Fast forward two weeks, to find him standing at her door. He had sold everything he owned and flew out immediately when she had asked, and now he stood waiting for her, a last fifty in his wallet and the clothes on his back his only personal possessions besides the wooden cane he supported himself with. She had warned him that she might not be what he was expecting, but he could not care. There was nothing in this world, no problem so large that could keep him from giving himself to the woman he loved.

"Ding-Dong."

"I'm coming." That voice he knew so well called from the other side of the oak door, all the more beautiful for how close he was to its source. Vincent stood with bated breath as the lock clicked, the old brass handle rotating and swinging inwards.

"You're Vincent?" The voice asked. Vincent looked up into the worried eyes of the person before him in awe.

"I am. You're Jessie?"

A nod, followed by a short sob. "You remembered my favorite flowers." Tears streaming, Jessie stepped back from the door, and Vincent stepped forwards. "I, I'm so sorry I'm not the woman you thought-"

"But, you are." It was painful beyond imagining, and he nearly fell, but Vincent managed to lower himself to one knee before the only person in the world that mattered. "Jessie, I have nothing to give you but the love in my heart, but if you'll take me, I would spend the rest of my life with you. Jessie... will you marry me?"

That voice, that beautiful voice that had taken him through hell and back, from the most beautiful person he had ever met. "You... Yes. Yes!" Vincent felt light as air as he was pulled upright, and wrapped in Jessie's arms as both their tears stained his shirt. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.