The police officers finally got control of Max and had no choice but to handcuff him and send him to a back room until he calmed down. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
I waited three hours for Max to be released and, fortunately, the cops held nothing against him. I saw him come out of the station as I sat on the hood of his car and my heart raced, a light shining inside me. But that light inside me rapidly faded when he came my way, his shoulders sagging and his face blank.
“Max,” I whispered. “Baby, are you okay?” I tried to hug him, but he pulled away from me.
“Where are my keys?” he demanded with his palm up and his hand stuck out.
I blinked hard, then dug in my pocket for them.
“I’m taking you home,” he grumbled when I dumped them in his palm.
He moved around me, climbing behind the wheel of his car and slamming the door behind him. The slam made me flinch and I froze for just a moment.
He cranked the car, which prompted me to get in. “Max, I’m so sorry about—”
“Just stop, Shannon. Seriously. Just don’t,” he bit out, avoiding my eyes. He put the car in Drive and drove away from the police station.
I didn’t say anything more for the rest of the ride. Hell, I couldn’t even look at him. He had every reason to be upset right now. His parents had just died, and a racist man had just laughed in his face about it.
Max dropped me off at my apartment and didn’t even bother coming up or allowing me to comfort him with a departing hug. Instead, he pulled off as soon as I’d made it to the sidewalk and my heart cracked as I watched him go, his tires skidding and burning the road.
As I walked up to my apartment door, I couldn’t help but think that maybe he was putting some of the blame on me too. If I hadn’t offered to take the trip to Hilton Head, he would have gone to the lake with his parents, like he did every single year. Was it my fault? Did I create this?
Three tears slipped down my cheeks when I stepped in front of my apartment door, but I swiped them away, and it was then that I realized I didn’t have my keys. I’d left them in my bag, which was in Max’s trunk. Luckily, Emilia was home and she let me in, answering the door with a wide smile on her face. As soon as she saw me though, her entire demeanor changed.
“Shannon?” She closed the door and then stepped in front of me. “What’s wrong?”
I told her everything, dumped it all right on her.
Things changed that night, I can admit. I expected to hear from Max that same night or even the next morning, but I didn’t. I called and even went by his apartment, but there was no answer and when I used the key he’d given me, I saw that he wasn’t home.
The day after that, still no call. Not even a text. I figured he needed space and time alone to grieve. I sent a text to Eugene to ask him if he’d seen Max, and he said he hadn’t, which worried me. Other than his parents and Eugene, he had no one else, so where was he?
I don’t know how many times I’d called Max, but I do know I’d left enough voicemails that his voicemail box eventually became too full to take anymore.
A solid week passed and there was still nothing from him. His parents’ funeral was that Saturday, and Max was not answering anyone’s calls. Eugene had to take initiative earlier in the week to make the proper arrangements for his brother and sister-in-law since Max was a no-show.
Max didn’t appear at the funeral either. And that? That was troubling. What had he done and where had he gone? He couldn’t have been far, could he?
I tried thinking of all the places he could be, but other than his parents’ house, nothing rang a bell. Eugene and I had even checked their house and there was no sign that Max had been there.
Two nights after the funeral, I began to feel ill. My head was pounding, and I vomited all night long. I slept all day the next day, and when I finally felt the urge to crawl out of bed, I felt even more fatigued than before.
It was dreadful, and even worse, I was still without Max. He was the only person I wanted to be around but there was no sign of him.
After spending four nights going through the same vomiting and fatigue stages, I paid a visit to a doctor. It wasn’t like me to suddenly get sick. I knew my body well and I hardly ever got sick…before Onyx Pleura anyway.