I save his voicemails like a paranoid digital hoarder

"Carmen. I'm calling because I'm on my way to a call."

"Okay. I guess that means you won't be home on time for dinner?"

"Its a bomb call."

...

Silence takes over our phone call for a few beats of my heart as I digest what he was saying.

This is one of the phone calls that I've played over and over in my head. The "this might be goodbye" call. This is the reason I secretly save all of his voicemails to a folder on my computer like a paranoid digital hoarder. This is the reason we have expensive life insurance. This is the reason dread fills my body every time someone knocks on the door while he is at work. Its why I'm so joyfully thankful when its just Jehovah's Witnesses on the other side and not his coworkers telling me he's never coming home.

All of the emotions swirl through my body leaving me frozen and breathless.

He breaks the silence with, "Its your butt. Your butt is the bomb. Hahahaha! I'm on my way home. Love you!"

Click.

He thinks he's hilarious.