“I don’t want him to see me like this. I don’t want—”
“Marlow, why can’t he—”
“Just listen to me. Please help me.”
“Sawyer, then,” I blurted.
Why? Why do you give in to her?
“What?” She sounded more confused.
I exhaled slowly. “Sawyer can get you.”
She went silent.
“Either that or you will have to wait until—”
“Okay . . . thank you, Isla.”
“You’re welcome,” I said quickly.
I hung up and realized what I had agreed to. Was it too late to take it back? To wait for the ornament to be finished and then go get her myself?
But she sounded so desperate . . . so unhinged. If too much time passed, who knew what state she would be in, or worse, what would happen to her. I could at the very least have the decency to watch out for her safety. I kept thinking about Moni and what she would have wanted me to do . . .
I pulled my phone up again and texted Sawyer.
I know this sounds crazy, but you have to go get Marlow at the airport. Right now. She’s not herself and needs help. Can you do that for me please?
A toddler in a pink puffer coat ran by me and shrieked. Her mother chased after her and the father lagged behind, holding a baby in a yellow fleece onesie. In all that had just happened with Marlow, I couldn’t help but pause for a second and wonder. Could that be us? Could that be Sawyer and me years from now? In the throes of the wonderful craziness of a life together?
Okay. I’ll go right now. I hope you’re okay.
He didn’t ask for more details. He didn’t question anything.
I abruptly felt sick, a hint of nausea hit me. It came in a giant wave and then passed.
What have I done?
I had told him to go to her. I had set something in motion, my hand still shaking over whatever lever I had jerked back.
The ornament. You can’t forget the ornament.
A few shoppers bumped into my shoulders as I made my way through the crowd without really seeing a single person. Time went haywire, the minutes seemed both short and long. The display in the storefront didn’t look as festive and cheery anymore. The ornaments appeared dull. I handed the store clerk my credit card as he rang me up and said enthusiastically, “Happy holidays!” I looked at him and nodded as he passed me a white paper bag tied with a shiny green ribbon. I didn’t look inside. Some words exited my lips, maybe a thank you, and I left the store. I don’t remember the drive from the mall back home, only the snowflakes sailing down to my windshield and then being swept away by the wipers.
The farmhouse was cold and dim. I looked in the study to find he had dropped his pencil, blueprints scattered across the desk. An unfinished cup of coffee. I touched his chair and I could swear it still felt warm. He hadn’t wasted a second to do what I had needed. I turned the fireplace on and pulled the wool blanket over my legs and waited. The flames burned into my irises, and it seemed I had barely blinked a few times when the doorbell rang.
Why would Sawyer ring the doorbell?
I looked out the window to see a figure in front of the door. I placed my hand on the knob, letting my heart play games with me. Letting it try to reason with craziness, bartering between hope and the truth.
It’s Sawyer. It’s Sawyer playing a joke on me.
I swung the door open.
A man stood there. A man I had never seen before. He had on one of those fur-lined trapper hats, and it was all I could do not to find the inappropriate humor in the caricature it made him resemble. I spotted the state trooper car in the driveway and looked at him, shaking my head already, trying to make him go away.
“No,” I said.
I don’t remember what he said. I don’t remember what I said in response. I only know that he had to hold me up; every sensation in my limbs failed me. I was no longer in my body.
Somehow, I was seated in the passenger seat of the trooper’s car. A wail trapped somewhere deep inside me, ringing my insides with pain. I could practically hear Sawyer whispering with so much love in my ear that it ripped every piece of muscle in my heart.
Shhh. It’s okay, Isla. It’s okay.
I kept my eyes shut tight. If I opened them, it would be all too real.
Brightness blinded me as we entered the hospital. The trooper held on to my arm as I trudged next to him, looking to the left and to the right, as if he would be there. Full and intact. Warmth, blood, and flesh. There for me to grab on to and scream with relief.
But it wasn’t him.
She stood there, a cut above her left eyebrow. That was it. A single cut.
“Isla,” she said, reaching out, her chin already trembling.
I said nothing as she wrapped her arms around me and wept. It annoyed me. I wanted her to shut up so I could listen for my husband.
My husband. Where was he?
