Sandy

Sandy paced back and across the kitchen.

“It took 30 minutes to get to the gym,” she thought to herself. That was 30 minutes 4 hours ago. Sandy stopped pacing, but her heart felt like it was still running. She grabbed her phone and dialed 9-1-1.

“9-1-1 what’s the address of your emergency?”

Sandy’s voice felt raspy.

“Hi. My name is Sandy James, and my husband has been missing for over an hour. He left for the gym at around 4-“

“Ma’am? One second ma’am. What’s your husband’s name?”

“Damien. Damien James.”

“And what address are you calling from ma’am?”

“525 Calgary Way, Charlotte, NC, 28273.”

“Ok ma’am and are you at that location now?”

“Yes,” Sandy answered. She felt her voice to be shaky, though that could have been her imagination playing jokes on her.

“Ok ma’am. And when did you say he left from the house?”

“Around 4:00 this afternoon. He said he would be back by 6:00.”

“Ok-“

“And I just know he would have called if we would have been-“

“Ma’am?”

“Yes?”

“Ma’am, since it’s been only a few hours, I would recommend just waiting for him to return.”

“I k-know my husband. He would always call when he would be late. Even from work, or traffic, he would call. He wouldn’t, just, not. I know something happened. I know.”

“Ok. Ma’am, again, there isn’t much we can do. It’s only been about 30 minutes from when you said he would be home. I would recommend calling back later if he hasn’t returned.:

Sandy felt her heart sink. “But-but-um…..ok?” she said shakily. She felt tears well up.

“Ok ma’am.”  Click.

Sandy set the phone down slowly.

“I’D LIKE TO SOLVE THE PUZZLE!!!”, a contestant screamed from the T.V. She felt frozen. She knew something was wrong.

“No. She doesn’t know. I know.”

Sandy glared at her wedding ring. She began twisting it. Her brain was running itself crazily more than it already did. The Adderall had worn off during the phone call. “I know him,” she thought to herself again. She still remembered the goofy look he gave her that day at the altar. Even when they were first dating, he would always call when he would be late, or when he was expecting a busy day.  Sandy stopped twisting and looked at the clock.

7:01

“Wait longer, wait just a minute longer…...a minute. A minute? A minute!!!!” Sandy grabbed her phone and ran out the door, almost as instantly running back inside and grabbing her keys and phone.

The tears started to blur the road together until she could no longer distinguish the passing lanes from the sporadic white solid lines on I-485. She almost missed her exit to get off. Swerving and honking the horn was the van next to her which almost triggered a massive sideswipe.

“God, Whyyyy?”, Sandy groaned cried. She felt her heart about to explode. She made the sharpest left turn onto Johnson Road. The LA Fitness loomed in the distance. To her, it seemed like forever when she pulled in. She couldn’t get to the front door fast enough. Her legs felt like quicksand. She saw herself vividly in the glass door. One word: Medusa. She grabbed the door and flung it open. A cute blonde-haired girl sat behind the desk.

“Hi welcome to L.A. Fitness dear. Can I have you sign in?” she asked. Her smile didn’t help Sandy at all.

“Hi,” Sandy said. You could hear the tears in her voice. “M-my name is Sandy James. I um, um, my husband, he works out here. Um, he, um, here today. His name is Damien. He’s tall, very pretty, a sweetheart.”

The girl looked at Sandy with the nicest fake smile ever, obviously feeling sorry for the poor woman who aged 20 years in a few sentences.

“Hmmm…. let me see.” She started typing away on her computer. Sandy tried her hardest to peer into the big room behind her. There were quite a few people, but none of them looked like her love.

“James, you said?”

“Yes. Damien James.”

The girl seemed to scan for a minute and then pause. Her face softened a little. “Ma’am he checked out at 5:30.”

Sandy felt her knees buckle at this point. “Did you see him leave?” she asked. She acted as if the girl knew him. Or even remembered him. “Um, I’m pretty sure I did.” Sandy didn’t say anything. Instead, she flew out of the gym and to the car dialing 9-1-1 the way there.

“9-1-1 what’s the address of your emergency?”

“Hello?”, Sandy said through a guffaw of tears.

“Hello”, said the operator.

“My name is Sandy. James. My husband is Damien. James.” Between every statement was a pause accompanied by a heap of sniffles. “I called. Earlier to report him. Missing. He never returned home. I know, I know my husband. I li-live on 525. Calgary Lane, Charlotte, NC, 28273. He-he went to-“

Silence.

Sandy dropped to her knees next to her car. If some wacko under her car was waiting to slash her Achilles, so be it. It’d be an easier pain than whatever this was.

“HELLO?!” She practically scream-cried into the phone.

“Ma’am I’m going to need you to calm down now.” Silence.

“Ok, now, now you said you live on 525 Calgary Lane, correct?”

“Yes! I’m not there now. I’m at the gym on Johnson Rd.”

“Ok. And you said he never returned to your home?”

“Yes.”

“Have you checked their recently?”

“I just left about 40 minutes ago!!”

“I’m going to have to ask you to calm down.”

Sandy finally got to her feet and opened the door. She slid in nonchalantly and let her head rest on the headrest. At this point, it was completely dark. Fuck winter. She put the phone back up to her ear.

“Hello?” she asked quietly.

………..

“hell-o?”

Her hope faded just like her white dress back home. The clock on her dash read 8:00.

30 minutes-0. 4 hours-1.

Sandy ran her hands through and her hair and collapsed on her dash. After crying for a few minutes she picked up her phone and scrolled to emergency contacts.       Honey. She swiped left on the name. Brrrrrrrring……brrrrrrrrrring……brrrrrrrrrrring………brrrrrrrrring………..brrrrrrrrrring. “This is Damien James. I’m unable to take your message. Please leave a name and number, and I will get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.” BEEEEEEP. Sandy hung up. It was no use. She turned the key in the ignition and began driving.

“Shit, did I even ask if he left with anyone?”

The miles felt like hours. 2 to be exact. It was now 10, 10:01. 6 hours. The gas gauge on the dashboard was about to start flashing her light in a minute. She only had about 50 miles left before she would be out. At that point, she was heading home. No point. She had driven everywhere just looking for his car, or him, or something that looked like him. Every dimly lit streetlamp, back-alley ways in downtown Charlotte, every train station and bus port she could remember (she ended up looking the others up). The Westside, Eastside, downtown, past downtown, Matthews, Tega Cay, and Fort Mill, SC. Now she found herself in her old neighborhood. The one where she and D bought their first home. It was small. A ranch, not even. It had one bedroom and a bathroom. Both fresh in their new “careers” if you could’ve even called it that. He was basically running around getting coffee and donuts at Deckins. Not even allowed to step foot into what he called “The Floor.” After a few years, they were given opportunities to move up. And with it, came a bigger salary, which meant no more living in The Cart. It also meant more time away from each other, which Sandy was awful at. Not in the meaning of stalker girlfriend/wife, but overly cautious if the slightest thing were to happen. And this was the tip of the iceberg. She saw something glisten as she turned off the main road into the neighborhood. Her ring. She didn’t know what to think. She stared at it for a minute, almost running off the road. She let her hands off the wheel and let the car coast. Slowly letting off the gas pedal, she slowly took off the ring and put it in the cupholder. She thought of the funeral arrangements she would be making.

“Momma? Uhm….?” Her mind was just racing with no clear thought or thought process. She turned right onto their street. The lump in her throat had grown to a hole.

“Have I breathed at all?”

She slowed the car down and turned into their driveway. The house sat completely dark. Any crumb of hope she had left diminished in a millisecond. Getting out of the car and looking to the ground, she stumbled.

“Hey. Hey, it’s ok,” she told herself. She leaned her back against the car and slid down. Her hands buried into her face. Hopefully, her hiccups and sniffles weren’t enough to raise any alarm. Suddenly she jumped. “How long have I been crying for?” she thought. She looked up to see a bright light. Headlights. They were behind her car.

“Sandy?”

She knew that voice anywhere. Suddenly her tears became heavier.

“Damien?!”