“Why don’t you just check and tell me exactly where she is?” I snap
He nods. I bet his nod is more to appease me than anything else. I pace to control my emotions. Her cries replaying in my mind isn’t helping. A few minutes later, he returns.
“She’s at home.”
“Thank you,” I say turning to leave.
Luke blocks my path.
“The storm is about to end; you won’t be of any use to her if you get injured before getting to her,” his tone is pleading, but I’m beyond listening to reason.
“I don’t care if the wind is howling like thousands of wolves, and the rain sounds like fucking war drums, and lightning strikes are close to shattering glass, and thunder shakes the building. I drive to her or walk if I must, but I won’t seat here in agony or let her ever feel that I won’t show when she needs me,” I challenge.
Luke steps away. Bruce pats my shoulder.
“I’ll drive you. You’re too emotional to drive rationally in this weather.”
I nod.
We leave through the back door. My heart pounds with each brisk step we take.
We get in his car. The moment we sit, I check the app. She has activated the green. Green is mild, I mentally mantra. The fucking rain and her fear have stressed her and sent her into a crisis mode.
“This isn’t good.” I turned to Bruce. “She’s in crisis!”
“Okay, I’ll drive as fast as I can, remember we need to get you there safe.” I nod, eager to tell him to get moving already, I managed to stay quiet with my raging thoughts and a mantra.I’m coming, princess.
Soon as we pull out of the underground car park, the harsh sound of rain beating on the car greets us, and the gushing wind accompanies it. Bruce stays focused, and I stay quiet, tamingmy overdrive emotions and my helplessness. The drive is ten to fifteen minutes on a regular day, but with the flood, we are moving slowly, and it’s likely to take triple the time. Some streetlights and traffic lights are down, adding to the madness.
I checked the app again and it’s still green, but I can already sense the agony she’s in. Heavy rain is never her friend; it stresses her out. Combined with crisis, it is sending her into a tailspin of pain. I inhale control and exhale the anguish of helplessness. It’s taking everything in me to sit still and not yell at Bruce, who’s driving in a safe and steady pace towards our building.
When he pulls up in front of the building after what feels like hours, I jump right out and get hit by the downpour. Making it to the door, I’m drenched, but I don’t care. I race up the stairs, two steps at a time. Bruce is on my tail. Soon as I enter the unit, I toss my drenched jacket and toes to heels, remove my shoes and head to my room. She’s not there. I check her room. She isn’t there either. I check the half bath. She’s not there either. I even open the linen closet that can’t fit anyone.
I turn to Bruce. “You said she’s home,” I yell.
“She is.”
“Anu!” I holler and return to my room to look again, almost expecting her to magically appear on the bed. I look under the bed and it’s empty. Then I hear it, a soft cry, coming from the drum room; She’s on the floor in there. Why didn’t I look in there? How could I have forgotten she goes to the darkest corner to hide from the sound of thunder? I turn on the lamp and find her on the floor, crying with a blanket covering her. She’s trying to hide. I get on the floor beside her, making sure not to touch her.
“I’m here, princess.” I whisper.
“Daniel?” she asks, her voice low and strangled.
“Yes, princess, it’s me. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”
“I’m scared. I ran inside to avoid the thunder and forgot my bag; my headphone is in the bag.”
“It’s okay, I’ll get it for you later. Can I touch you? I want to get you to bed,” I reply.
“Yes, I took the pain meds before coming in here.”
“Okay, I’m going to carry you now.”
I get up and she tries to get up. I quickly lift her and turn towards the bed. That’s when I see Bruce. He helps to pull the sheet cover. I’d completely forgotten about him. He looks at me, his eyes asking,‘Is she okay?’I shake my head and gently place her on the bed, pulling the covers up to wrap her in. I go to my drawer. I have spare headphones. Taking it out, I go to her.
“What’s the level of pain?” I ask.
“Still green.” Her voice is still low and strangled.
