'Out of sight, out of mind'

- Hello?
- Hey, it's me.
- Hey. What are you doing calling me at home?
- I called your cell, but it went straight to voice mail.
- Yeah, well, I can't pick up now.
- I figured. It's just I had to talk to you.
- Right. I can't talk for long.
- It's OK. Actually, it's better this way.
- All right, then. What is it?
- Listen, I can't do this anymore.
- Please, not again. I know it's hard on you, but you have to understand I can't leave.
- I know, I'm not asking you to.
- Then what is it that you're saying?
- That I'm done. I need to figure my life without you because, right now, I can't even imagine myself without you. And I can't have that.
- You've met someone.
- No, I haven't. It's just me.
- Right, so you've "changed", have you?
- No, that's not it either. But I need to. I have to stop waiting around for you. For you to call, for you to have a free couple of hours or even if I'm lucky, a weekend... For you to decide yet again it's wrong, that it's you who cannot do this any longer. For you to, once more, change your mind and call back. I just can't.
- But I still love you.
- What was that again? I couldn't hear you.
- Sorry, thought I heard something... I couldn't speak up. I said I love you.
- You say that now.
- I know that now. And you know that now. And you do too.
- Do what?
- Come on...
- Love you?
- Don't you?
- Of course I love you. You already know that. And I am perfectly and painfully aware that I may never stop loving you. But that's not the point.
- I thought that was precisely the whole point of it all.
- No. You don't know what you want, and I don't know if you'll ever know, and it hurts way too much.
- Don't do this.
- I'm doing it. I just can't do this. I'm sorry.
- No, you're not.
- Fine, I'm not. Actually, I'm glad to be able to walk away and, for once, not leaving things being the one who's being walked away from.
- I never walked away.
- Yes, you did.
- I did not.
- Oh, but you did too.
- No, not entirely. Never.
- That's right. You just forget about me the second I am out of your sight, and you don't remember I exist untill the very instant you bump into me again. It's like you can't acknowledge what you're not seeing, I swear. You just disconnect.
- It's not like that. I'm not seeing you right now, am I?
- No, but you're finally seeing reality. I'm not waiting around.
- Can I see you?
- Right now?
- Yes, please. I want to see you.
- I thought you couldn't talk long. And now all of a sudden you have the time to see me?
- I'll make the time, I need to see you right now.

Pause.

- Hello?
- I'm still here.
- So can I see you?
- No. It's me who cannot see you. I can resist you on the phone, but I couldn't on person. I can't.
- You'll have to see me sooner or later. Monday, five o'clock on the field.
- Actually, no. You don't have to worry about any awkwardness and neither you nor me have to worry about seeing each other ever again.
- It wasn't a date, you really have to be on the field on Monday at five.
- I don't, coach. I quit.

Short pause.

- You still there?
- I am.
- I said I quit the team.
- No, you don't. You won't. I'll talk to your parents, you know I'm friends with your dad. He'll never let you quit, Meg. He wants you to get that scholarship.
- Dad and the scholarship, huh? You don't mess with your cards, always all in.
- You know I'm not bluffing.
- Whatever, Susan. Have it your way. But you won't have me anymore.
- We'll see about that.
- You got it, we will see.
- Monday, five.