Special Episode: Long Distance

Special Episode — Long Distance Tourist season had swallowed Coconut City whole. The boardwalk was packed. The beaches were packed. The roads were packed. The city buzzed with music, traffic, tourists, and enough bad decisions to power the entire Sunfall Coast. Which was exactly why Fiona Foxx came here. Far from the crowds. Far from the lights. Far from everyone. An abandoned stretch of beach sat several miles north of the city limits where the dunes swallowed the old highway and the tourists never bothered to go. The only thing out here was an old payphone. Nobody knew why it was still there. Nobody knew who maintained it. The phone company denied it existed. Yet every night at exactly 11:17 PM— it rang. Tonight Fiona was the one calling. The summer heat still clung to everything even after dark. The sand remained warm beneath her boots. Cicadas screamed from the dunes. The ocean rolled endlessly beneath a sky full of stars. Fiona dropped four quarters into the machine. Dialed the same number. The same number she'd called every night for almost a month. The line rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Nobody answered. Like always. Fiona leaned against the booth. "Hey Dad." Static crackled softly. "I got yelled at today." Pause. "Not even my fault this time." She smiled. "Mostly." The receiver hissed quietly. The ocean breeze drifted through the open booth. "I miss you." Her voice grew softer. "Mom misses you." She swallowed hard. "Whisky misses you too." The line crackled. Fiona closed her eyes. A month ago some wandering mystic had shown up during Coconut Fest. Nobody knew his name. Nobody knew where he came from. He'd listened to Fiona talk about her father for nearly an hour. Then he simply said: "If you miss someone enough, call them." Fiona laughed. The mystic didn't. "Find a payphone." "Call." "Eventually something answers." Then he'd stolen somebody's nachos and disappeared. Classic Coconut City. Fiona should've ignored him. Instead she'd come here every night. Tonight felt different. The air suddenly cooled. The cicadas stopped. The ocean seemed farther away. And closer. At the same time. The static deepened. Not louder. Deeper. Like distant voices hiding beneath the sound. Fiona frowned. "Hello?" A faint chuckle echoed through the receiver. Tiny. Almost impossible to hear. Fiona froze. "...Dad?" Another crackle. Another laugh. Warm. Familiar. The laugh she remembered from childhood. The laugh from birthday parties. Pizza shop kitchens. Family dinners. The laugh she hadn't heard in years. Tears immediately filled her eyes. The dunes behind her rustled softly. The payphone glass reflected a figure standing near the shoreline. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Raccoon-shaped. Watching the ocean. Fiona turned. Nothing there. When she looked back, the reflection was gone. The line crackled one final time. Then she heard it. A voice. Distant. Faint. Like it was crossing an impossible distance. Only three words. The same words he'd always said. "Best in Business." The line went dead. Silence. The cicadas returned. The ocean returned. The summer heat returned. Fiona stood there staring at the receiver. Tears running down her face. Then a familiar voice spoke nearby. "Heavy waves tonight, my Dude." Of course. Che Rams sat cross-legged atop a driftwood log overlooking the water. Barefoot. Watching the stars. Like he'd been there the entire time. Maybe he had. Fiona wiped her eyes. "I think I heard him." Che nodded. "Probably." She stared at him. "Probably?" "That's a pretty big probably." The ocean rolled quietly between them. Fiona looked back at the payphone. "Do you think it was really him?" Che thought for a moment. Then smiled. "Wrong question." "What?" He pointed gently toward her heart. "Did it feel like him?" Fiona looked down. The answer came immediately. "...Yeah." Che nodded. "Then maybe that's enough." The two sat quietly beside the dark ocean. Watching moonlight dance across the waves. After a while Fiona finally asked: "Should I keep calling?" Che grinned. "Absolutely." "Why?" "Because somewhere out there is a dead dad who probably wants updates on all the stupid stuff you've been doing." Fiona laughed through the tears. The beach drifter smiled toward the horizon. "And if he can't answer every night..." The wind carried the scent of saltwater across the dunes. "...he's still listening." Far out over the ocean, a distant laugh echoed across the waves. And for the first time in a long time— Fiona smiled back.