I PLAYED HER VOICEMAIL FOR THE 413TH TIME

Dear Delyara, My sister left me a voicemail the night before she died. It says: “Hey, call me when you wake up. I found Mom’s old recipe box, and you’re not going to believe what was inside.” That’s all. Seventeen seconds. I have listened to it 413 times because my phone shows the play count. I hate that it shows the number. It makes grief look like a habit I could track and control. I never called her back. I had seen the notification that morning, but I was late for work. I thought, I’ll call tonight. There was no tonight. Nobody knows what was inside the recipe box. Her husband threw out most of her things during the move because he said he couldn’t breathe around them. Sometimes I play the voicemail just to hear the tiny inhale she takes before saying “Hey.” That breath is the last sound my sister made in a world where she believed I was still available to answer her. I wasn’t.