THE CALL.

'Hello, this is WBHM, pod brief, and I am your host, Angel, seconded by my co-host, Eva State Free Nation. Feel free to engage, interact, and have a reason to believe. As we start this day, they say the sun rises for a reason and sets for a reason...' It is always a well-programmed introduction; sometimes the host would be me and others Eva would take the better of the microphone; most breaks are keying in some music as we read the texts chiming in from various platforms. This is actually, dear reader. I am not sure if I have ever had a chance to tell or explain to you all the importance of this. Being on the set as a podcast presenter was never my thing. Even though I am not sure if I should call it a podcast, I guess it is now more of a show. If it were a podcast, I am sure it would be streaming on some online platform of that sort. So, as I was stating, I know my love for screen and media affairs has always brought me into a life where, maybe some day, I will be something of significance in the life of a media personality, but actually, the crazy fact is that, on no one, absolutely not one social media platform, did I ever find myself engrossed in presenting myself or yearning for likes, followers, or a number of that sort. Currently, however, my Instagram page is quite flourishing with followers; I recently got the verification, along with my Twitter. I used to be a Twitter fan back on campus, as I had so many friends in the drama club who engaged in tweets and could influence a thread that would cause viral likes and dislikes. I actually engaged in the tweets, but I was never the type who yearned for a follow-back or anything to do with followers; all I wanted was to provide my ideas about a situation that I believed deserved a reaction of some sort.

"You really make fans engage in our sessions; it's like they just wait on their radios while driving or just chill." I tell Ana, honestly, she always had ways to engage with the fans; she had this sense of humor that I really enjoyed, and anyone would literally stop their work just to listen to her. Her voice was the beautiful, soft, and outspoken voice I always loved. Its not that mine was as bad, due to the various compliments most students used to give me and the fact that during my drama erras, the producer always gave me the role of narration, meaning that really students enjoyed my speech, and they quite well understood when I spoke and could follow up on all my speeches instead of sometimes stuttering. I was never the type who stuttered when speaking, even when nervous. When I was nervous, I sometimes lacked words and just kept quiet; stuttering was never something that had ever occurred to me. Maybe once, when I was a little girl, when my mother found me stealing the sugar left, that woman was quite a fighter. She would thrash you with anything at present, be it a shoe, be it slippers, be it plates, be it books—even the hand was easier. I quite remember that day she slapped me hardly; the slap still echoes on me to date, so you can imagine how hard the slap was.

"The fans love us here." Ana replied. We were heading home. First, of course, she was taking me to my place, and right after she replied, my phone started ringing. It was a new number, and the story about the cornman was still fresh in my mind, but I did not take much of that into consideration, for right now, I was in no mood to add up to the many contracts different radio stations had offered me. The thing that just made me laugh was that I was not doing my main job with the course I had studied and was yet to get a degree in. Maybe the book writing thing, or maybe when I start script writing, if I keep that dream alive. While for psychology, I really don't know and am even not sure if I will ever finish my studies in that sector; it will be read in a different life, maybe some years to come, in old age or something like that. I was once thinking of just paying someone to finish for me when I left, but I knew my mom would flip. For my father, I am not quite sure; my relationship with him has never been such intimate; it was always the responsibility part he needed to take into action; all the others, I really never engaged in him; of course, he left us at a quite young age; and the fact that I saw everything that he did to my mom, it became much more than a trauma in my life. I still fear that my life, or marriage life, is drastically meant to be as such. However, as far as I know, in relation to the men that I have dated, none have ever shown me any signs of violence.

"Hey, aren't you going to pick up?" Ana asks, which returns me to reality, and so I pick up the phone and decide not to speak first, as the number was one that I had not yet saved.

"Hey, hi Angel." At first, I did not catch the voice, but from the way my name was pronounced, I knew who it was. It was Leniey, and I suddenly wondered why he had not called me for quite a long time.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked him as I saw Eva eyeing me as she packed her car outside my rental car park.

"I wanted to see you; I happened to just arrive. Are you free? When are you free?" He asked. His voice was low, soft, and deep, as always. I could feel his breathing from wherever I was, and I adjusted myself by laying on the passenger seat to be more comfortable, maybe to really contemplate what Leniey was asking of me.

"What do you mean, 'you just arrived?"

"I was back home to deal with a couple of things. I just arrived." He added. It seems a couple of things were really important.

"Branding or what?" I asked, trying to force the conversation. He was always the type of man who really took his time opening up. That was something I really heard and came to know and understand about him; he always took his time opening up, unless you were really close to him.

"No, not really branding; it's just a... home thing." He added, taking his time to respond to the home thing part. It seemed he was really taking or fighting with himself to not open up to me.

"Is it something to worry about?"

"No, I just... Are you free? I'll drive there," he stated. Of course, I was free, but whenever he and I were in the same building, it always led to a complex mix of emotions. It wasn't easy to categorize as good or bad; we simply couldn't resist the magnetic attraction and connection we shared. It was as if we were drawn to each other, unable to keep our hands away.

"How about a hotel?" I suggested. I didn't want Ana to identify the man I was talking to on the phone, but I was well aware that she had her suspicions, and it was someone close, for sure.

  "Which hotel?" Leniey asked as fast as I stated a hotel. I hated it when someone gave me the opportunity to choose for myself the hotel I wanted; it was always one of the hardest things to do as a person.

"Anyway, just come pick me up." I stated, and I saw Ana raise her brows as if waiting for the news of the man I was talking to.

"Okay, I will avail myself at around four."

"Okay, bye," I said as I ended the call abruptly. It left an unwanted ache in my heart, causing it to pound relentlessly against my ribcage. Leniey hadn't called or texted me in a while, and he hadn't even posted on his Instagram in quite some time. Maybe that's the reason, but I knew there had to be a deeper explanation for why he rushed home so quickly.

  "Who is that girl, a new one?" Ana laughed, giggling a little.

"No, it's Leniey." I stated. I was a liar, but to Ana, I was never a liar anymore. I suddenly saw no point in lying to her about my life and everything about me.

"Oooh, the model." I laughed when she stated that, because honestly, I never really saw Leniey as the model he had become; I just saw him as my former coursemate, one who had tried out his way in life and somehow maneuvered through the world of modeling.

"I don't really see him as a model, you know. For me, he is someone I once knew."

"How did you guys meet?" Ana asked.

"That's quite complicated; we were coursemates."

"Damn, you banged your coursemate?" She asked

"As if I am alone?" After saying this, we both laughed, as she too used to date one of our coursemates, which actually ended up quite bad. Although I am usually scared to ask her about it, I usually feel as if she has had or has not yet healed from that trauma. I barely see her happy with someone, as she was with that guy. Maybe that's the side effect of love; happiness only comes once.