Lila looks at me with concern when I curse. I hand her the phone back. She takes it with a sad smile.
“No family to call?”
“I tried,” I say in a whisper, for I don’t trust my voice. “I couldn’t get through. I need to find out how my brother’s doing.”
She nods. “We’ll keep trying. Anyone else you have to call?”
I shake my head. There are many people, but I have to get my brain together.
“I want someone to tell me where Cy is,” I say to her with vehemence. I’m not going to lose sight of finding him.
I somehow lost him. I won’t stop until I find him again.
The women share another concerned look, and for the first time, I think I know what it is the people who live with my brother go through. The look they share states clearly what they won’t say aloud: this woman is batshit crazy. Does Daniel go through this? Does he feel mounting frustration when trying to get an important message to someone? Does he feel as if he’s a child whose opinion doesn’t count?
This overwhelming feeling of desperation and sadness grips my chest and presses down, stealing breath from my lungs until I’m dizzy. I close my eyes to steady myself, when I realize the dizziness is likely due to my blood pressure skyrocketing. I draw in a deep, ragged breath, then let it out again, when something soft is pressed into my hand. I open my eyes and look down to see a cluster of white tissues.
It isn’t until I focus on the tissues that I’m aware my cheeks are wet, and the lump in my throat dissolves. I’m crying.
I lost the one man I ever loved. The one man who ever loved me.
They took him from me, and I don’t even know who “they” are.
I swipe the tissues across my eyes and blow my nose.
“Hand me the phone again.”
I try to call Mal at the office. But once again, the phone rings and rings. I wonder if this is on purpose.
“What’s today’s date?” I ask someone.
“September twenty-fifth,” Lila responds with unnerving pleasantness.
I swallow and brace myself for the next question. “Year?”
I close my eyes when she tells me the year and release a breath I didn’t know I held. It’s only been a few months. Only a few months.
Months that changed my life forever.
“You’re dehydrated and malnourished,” the nurse says, pressing a glass of water into my hand. “Drink, please. And try to have a little something to eat.”
I look up to see she’s placed a small bowl of fruit salad beside the other food on my plate. I don’t want fruit, damnit. I need to get my strength up if I’m going to find Cy. If I’m going to face whatever obstacles will come at me next. If I’m going to return home to Daniel.
So I take a sip of water, and follow it with a few bites of fruit. It’s bland and tasteless, food that’s been transported aboard a ship, not plucked from trees in the heat of the day, brimming with juice, ripe to the point of near bursting. After a few more bites, I push the bowl to the side and eat a few fries.
I expected they’d taste good, but they’re as tasteless as the fruit. I swallow down a few bites to gain some energy, then push that away, too.
Cy.
How did he get away from me? The grief is physically painful, squeezing my heart so tightly, my chest expands and contracts with the effort of breathing.
Cy.
How could I have lost sight of him?
Did I take for granted that he’d always be beside me? That we’d become almost one, doing everything together so much so that no one could separate us. That he’d fend for himself? How could I have let him down? I should’ve watched out for him.
I should’ve held his hand and not let go.
I’m here, aboard this rescue ship, or… or whatever it is. Where is he?
I look at the phone that sits forgotten on a little bedside table.
I wasn’t actually able to reach anyone. Did they lie when they said I could make a phone call? Was I just set up?
There are so many questions. I take in a deep breath and release it. I remind myself once more that I have to stay logical. Level-headed.
Lila sits beside me and takes my hand, but after squeezing it, I release her. I don’t like people I don’t know touching me unnecessarily.
“I want a room of my own, please,” I say, in as steady a voice as I can muster. I want a place where I can rest in peace and plan what to do next. I speak as calmly as I can. I don’t want them questioning my sanity.
“Of course,” Lila says, getting to her feet. I wait, alone, in the room. I can hear voices chattering excitedly outside the door.