Re: Phonecall: Cris M / Elena M
¿Bromeas? You can't say that—[He laughs again, miserably.]—after you call me violent! [And isn't that a whole nother set of issues? Things she doesn't want to parse with him.
He wants to yell and that tension is there, obvious and seeded in his throat, but he doesn't. He sits and presses his palms into his eyes until it hurts too much to continue and the resulting glittering explosions of pressure distract him, so briefly.—The question isn't unexpected and it doesn't give him pause. A few doors open and close in the background.
The words don't sound angry, but there's plenty of frustration.] You were gone for years, Elena. I would see you—I would see you twice a year. For a couple-a weeks at a time. How do I know if I ever...—? ¡Da igual! [There's the anger.]