Canned Coffee

The smell of rain, thick and sweet in her hair.

Wrapping her frozen hands within his own, wanting to withdraw instinctively to preserve his own heat, but then forcing it back and holding her tighter.

It had been three days since he had seen Sarah, and Ian was worried after the first few hours. He had met the police, dialed her parents, texted friends, called her phone only to reach her voicemail immediately. He sat in his darkened room, staring at his computer screen, eyes pulsing around several open tabs of her social media. Ian looked down quickly at the clock, 3am. He looked back again a moment later and it was 6am. Another 3 hours, no idea where she could be. His eyes were wrung red from exhaustion and wiping away tears. He had been heartbroken at first, thinking she had left him without saying a word. Then when he talked to her dad, he got scared. Her father hadn't seen her since they had dropped by to help get something out of the attic, days ago. And Ian was terrified when he found that she had left their home in the middle of the night, cleaned the apartment, and then left all of her belongings packed neatly stacked by the front door, ready to be carried out.

This was the worst thing he could have seen. Sarah had been distant for a while. She had quit her job without having another in place, so irresponsible, so unlike her. Ian got up from his desk and went to the bathroom. He wet his toothbrush before brushing his teeth, something Sarah always picked on him for. He breathed heavily, forcing himself to stare at her toothbrush resting on the mirror's ledge. She must've forgotten to take it with her, or throw it away, or whatever her grand plan was with the rest of her stuff. Staring at it was a type of penance for his sin of getting ready for bed like nothing was wrong.

He put both toothbrushes back in their proper cup by the faucet, noting how worn down the bristles on hers was from her biting on it, a habit from childhood that she never shook. He rinsed his face in cold water and more tears before lying down for the day.

His dreams were disturbing, rooms shrouded in black, walls bowing away from his hands when he tried to support himself, eerie off-tune violin barking from somewhere in the walls. He stumbled through for what felt like days until he saw a small rectangular light, piercing the black. He approached a door in front of him, a pristine white door with a glass panel in the middle. He could see the silhouette of a woman on the other side of the door, hear her soft laugh, then she turned to face towards the door and Ian saw the doorknob turn. The door swung open, and light blinded him, exploding from the doorway. His eyes burned, but he couldn't look away. Her sweet laugh continued, and he heard her pacing towards him, her shadow shielding him from the light. Completely overshadowed by the beams of white bursting from her outline, Ian could not recognize the face, but he knew who it was from the way she ran into a hug, one arm hooked under his, her hand pressing on his back, the other resting on his shoulder, holding onto the back of his head.

"Sarah!" He screamed awake, tears in his eyes. He held his neck, his pillow soaked with sweat. He sat up, staring into the darkness, looking at but not fully understanding the clock on his dresser. 2100 pulsed on in the dark. Another 15 hours- 15 hours? He had slept that long? He squeezed a fistful of hair.

"You asshole!" He jumped out of bed and checked his phone, no important alerts on it. He opened his messages, dozens of sent texts with no reply. Looking at them was eerie, like talking to a ouija board that didn’t talk back no matter how many times you forced the planchette. He chewed on his thumb for a while, staring at the screen, then began to send a text to Sarah.

I love you. I'm not mad that you left, I just hope you're happier wherever you are.

I miss you. I'm scared for you. Why did you leave your things?

He erased the last line, then the line before.

I miss you. We've been looking for you, calling everyone. Please text me back if you're safe.

He sent it, breathing heavily. His hand had missed the send button the first time, it was shaking so much. He waited. He hated it. His whole life seemed to be waiting, useless whether he was sitting on his ass or walking around town looking. The phone battery went down a few digits. He tried his best to ignore it and the time.

Read.

He screamed and cried in the same breath. Three dots popped up and disappeared simultaneously. He quickly began to type, he would not miss this opportunity.

I'm going to the gas station rn.

He sent the text, put his phone down and started getting dressed. He threw his phone in his pocket without checking it, got his shoes, and left the apartment.

The walk to the gas station was annoying. The rain reminded him of her, a sharp noise she couldn't go to bed without, a suddenly irritating crinkle that rolled around in his eardrums, resounding with every block traveled. The thought of those three bubbles popping up, then being swiped away overtook his vision, three small holes burned into everything he saw, like he had been staring at three identical suns for too long. Rain dripped down his hair into the back of his hoodie, mingling with sweat before being dissolved into his shirt.

When he finally got to the gas station, there were only two cars parked on the side, the pumps empty. The light was blaring and reds, greens and yellows reflected off of potholes in the parking lot, a sanctuary. He went inside, bought a canned coffee, and went back outside, sitting down on the front curb.

People came and went in the gas station while he waited. A man with a large white jacket and short twists came out of the store with a bag of chips and a soda, pumped his gas, and left. A woman in shorts and a thin jacket shivered while she ran in, then came out with a coffee and a donut. A small clump of people were extremely loud, taking their time as they all took turns telling jokes and quoting unfamiliar songs before piling back into a car and leaving. Their faces all looked like blurs to Ian, their voices muffled, incoherent. He looked at the coffee in his hand, still unopened, his hands so cold from the can he couldn't feel his fingers.

Then she was sitting beside him.

He was scared to look at her. Scared that it wouldn't actually be here, but someone else, trying to fill in her spot, attempting to claim the heavy void she had left behind. But then she spoke, and her voice was tired and wiry, like this was the first time she had ever stretched her vocal cords, but it was her.

"I missed you too." He knew there were tears in her eyes, but he could still hear her smile. He knew how he should react, cry, yell, comfort her. But he froze, unsure of himself. This isn't the same Sarah, his Sarah wouldn't have done this to him. He hated himself for feeling rage over everything else for a split second, then he looked at her.

She was exhausted. Her eyelids, always slightly darkened, were swathed in purple and brown, her eyes a bloodshot red. She was wearing the same jeans and t-shirt she had been wearing the last day he had seen her, no coat. She fought back shivers, but her goosebumps flashed up and down her arms, and when her hand went to touch Ian's, they were filthy, dirt under her nails and red and black marks around her fingers. Ian took his hand away from hers, and she bit back her lips, holding back tears, but then Ian took his hoodie off and gave it to her, and she sobbed as she put it on.

"Are you ok," he asked, holding her hand tightly. She laughed, a laugh alien from her, sharp and cold.

"No. I don't think I've been okay for a while." They sat for a while, the rain letting up slightly. The man working at the gas station came outside and started to smoke a cigarette.

"What happened?" She pulled the hood up and leaned against him.

"I don't know. I got... I was tired. I didn't know what to do." She spoke slowly and carefully, each syllable a tongue away from making her break down. "I couldn't sleep, so I..." He kissed her on the side of the head, covered by the hoodie, but she could still feel the warmth.

"You cleaned the house," he laughed. She smiled, nodding.

"Yeah, I cleaned the house." They laughed. A car pulled up, and the clerk stomped out his cigarette and headed back inside.

"I cleaned everything." They stopped laughing, smiles evaporating. "I dusted, cleaned the stove, tub. The bathroom baseboards. The drains. Things I never got around to, you know?" A moment passed.

"And then you packed your things." She breathed out sharply.

"Yeah, I wanted to make it easier for-" Her voice cracked. "No use making it harder on you," and she began to sob. He put his arm around her, it was so cold and wet he was sure it wouldn't help, but she leaned into him more, holding his soaked arm, then wiping the rain off of it.

"Do you want to come back home?" He said it softly.

"What?" She either asked from disbelief, or being unable to hear it the first time, or needing the reassurance from a second offer, he couldn't tell.

"Do you want to come back home?" She didn't smile, but she stopped crying.

"I don't think I should." Ian broke.

"Why?"

"Ian, you don't deserve this. Look what I put you through. What I put my parents through." She teared up again. "No one deserves this. That's why I was trying to leave-"

"But you came back." She stopped, then looked away.

"Another mistake. I can't even leave right."

"You came back. You know we want you back. We love you."

"But I can't make it go away. I can't be okay with myself. I don't want to keep putting people through things."

"The worst thing you could do is take yourself away from us." He said it carefully. She wiped her face with his hoodie. "I would know how to handle myself if we broke up. If you found someone else. But to never know what happened to you? I don't know what I'd do."

"I want to come back home. I just don't know how I'd face everyone again. It was so hard to put you through this, I don't know if I can see everyone again like nothing happened."

"You don't have to see them until you're ready. I'll let them know you're okay." She stood up and he followed, hugging each other and kissing.

"I don't know why you love me."

"You're perfect." She smiled, a deflated half smile. "I mean it. You're my world." They kissed again, then started to head home, but Sarah stopped.

"Hold on." She ran into the gas station and came back out, an umbrella and some change in her hands. She popped open the umbrella, held it over them, then gave him a coin. "This is it."

"What?"

"The coin I flipped. I didn't trust myself, so..." He took the coin from her.

"This fucking thing?" She went to take it back, but he pulled it away. It was a normal quarter, a small piece of black electric tape on one side to mark it as the decider it was. "25 cents." He looked away for a minute, then gave the coin back to her. She held it for a second, then went back into the store. This time she came back out with a Mr. Goodbar, no change.

"You owe me two bucks." They started to walk home as he remembered the coffee. He gave it to her, and she opened it immediately and drank a third of it at once. "We're even."

The sun rose as they went to bed, both freshly showered and teeth brushed, in their pajamas like nothing happened, friends and family texted that they were home safe. Their heads were still heavy with conversations to be had, wounds left to heal, but it could be left for another day. All either wanted was to be home again, warm and wrapped in each other, pushing thoughts away for some security to be found in this moment. They had been searching for it for days, in the sun and night and rain and screens and cold and dreams, and they had finally found it. This was all they needed.