Are You Okay?

“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m going to be okay.” 

Tap, tap, tap. Perhaps the sound was the gentle pecking of a bluebird visiting her in her newfound isolation, letting her know someone was still there. He would be a welcome guest. But her finger tingled, sending electricity through her arm and into her chest, and she realized her hand made the sound. Her mind was so preoccupied with a tangled web of words and emotions that she hadn’t even noticed her finger moving.

Tap, tap, tap, it continued on the edge of her seat. She breathed in slowly and deliberately, absorbing the pain of the morning. Their last words exchanged rang in her head. She wished he worked less and made more time for her. He wished she appreciated the life he was working so hard to provide. It wasn’t the first time they had spouted out words they later regretted. She hoped it wouldn’t be the last. But she knew this time was different.

Her instinct was to grab her phone and call him. But she couldn’t bring herself to reach for it. And it didn’t ring.

Tap, tap, tap. The slight, methodic movement reminded her that life went on. It gave her mind a distraction, letting her know she could feel even without him there.

He might come for her, though she didn’t hope for that. She didn’t expect him to and couldn’t blame him for not coming. He didn’t even know where she had gone after she left. Hours passed as she replayed the argument, hoping for a different outcome.

Her eyes closed involuntarily, and she jerked them open again, afraid of what might come while she slept. Eventually, she gave in to the eerie, unsettled, lonely sleep—sleep without him by her side.

When her eyes opened again, she breathed deeply.

Tap, tap, tap. Her fingers found the rhythm again. Other than the growling in her stomach, it was the only sound she heard. The phone still didn’t ring.

Her stomach rumbled again. She would do something different today. The monotony of the days without him blurred her senses. Her fingers searched close by her side, finding the overpriced water bottle she had insisted he get her for Valentine’s Day. It was a limited edition, she told him. They would only be on the shelves for a week. He reminded her that his job gave her luxuries like these. She sipped in silence, wishing she could trade the bottle for another minute with him.

The water did its trick, pulsing the tiniest bit of life back into her veins. The sun shone bright today, brighter than it had on the day of their miscommunication. The clouds danced in front of it, casting refreshing shadows on her face. Sunglasses would have come in handy. She had glanced at a pair on the bookshelf as she hurried out the door after their harsh words but had left them behind.

It was the perfect spring day with plenty of sunshine, but still not too hot. It was the kind of day that would often end with a walk around their neighborhood, recounting to each other even the most insignificant details of their days. She wondered if it was too much to ask to have those moments again.

When the clouds stopped dancing, she welcomed the sight of stars. She let herself drift off to sleep, again without him by her side.

The morning light brought more sun and clouds; then, the stars reappeared again. The phone never rang, and she knew by now it was too late to call him. After a couple of nights, the loneliness settled deep into her heart until her body nearly felt at peace.

Her hip ached today, reminding her she had missed her physical therapy appointment. She slid her arm up her leg to rub the spot of pain, pleasantly surprised to find a granola bar she had hastily tucked into the pocket of her jeans. She slid it out and struggled with the wrapper. Persistence paid off, and she relished in the delight of dark chocolate and peanut butter. 

More pain coursed through her leg. She was tired. Sleepy. She closed her eyes and thought about going home. She could look past the misunderstanding. Maybe he had already forgiven her too. Their arguments were infrequent at best. They had far more happy days than not. Those were the days she remembered. She hoped he would too.  

Tap, tap, tap. It was the hazy moment between the stars leaving and the sun giving her warmth. Her eyes were clamped closed, but the pinks and oranges of morning’s first light pierced through her eyelids.

Tap, tap, tap. Her finger wasn’t moving.

Tap, tap, tap. The sound was close but muffled. Still floating between sleep and awake, she heard a man’s voice. Had he come for her?

“Caucasian. Female, mid-thirties. Multiple lacerations. Drifting in and out of consciousness.”

Tap, tap, tap—the knuckle thumped on the window.

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Can you hear me? What’s your name?”

Her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth like it had been applied with super glue. She forced it down and licked her parched lips. The water bottle had been bone dry since yesterday.

“What’s your name?”

She tried to fill her lungs with air. Her mouth hung open, but nothing came out.

“Confirmed. Black Subaru. License plate RVT 875.”

The car he gave me on our fifth anniversary, she thought. What would he think if he saw it now? She painfully opened one eye, sending flecks of dried blood down her cheek. 

“Ma’am, are you Melanie Hunter?”

She coughed. Pain shot through her chest and legs.

“Yes,” she said, forcing out the word. She didn’t recognize her voice.

“Confirmed. It’s her. Send Mr. Tucker to this location immediately.”

“Ma’am, stay still. Everything’s going to be okay. We’ve been searching for you for days. Your car didn’t leave any skid marks when it went into the ravine. You weren’t easy to find. But we’re here to help you now. And your husband is on his way. He’ll be here any minute.”

Here, she thought. He’s coming here. What will he think when he sees the car?

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

She smiled. He wasn’t coming for the car. He was coming for her.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m going to be okay.”