My throat was uncomfortably tight and I felt a strange anxiety fluttering in my gut.
Maybe he was still talking to his old boss. That was it. He simply wasn’t home. Nothing to worry about.
So why did I feel dread like a lump in my chest?
I walked down the hallway, checking the bathroom. The spare room was also empty.
“Yoss?” I shouted at the top of my lungs.
Stop panicking. You’re being ridiculous,I told myself.
Why did I feel like my world was collapsing?
“If you’re not here, I’m going to feel like a total dumbass for yelling all over the house,” I called out.
I pushed open the door to my bedroom. The curtains were open and sunlight streamed through the window. It seemed Yoss had been at work in here as well. My dresser was dusted and the books that had been piled precariously in the corner were lined up neatly on a shelf.
He had folded my clothes and put them in the rocking chair in the corner. My dirty clothes that normally lay strewn across the floor had been put in the hamper. I felt a margin of mortification at the thought of him picking up my dirty under garments.
Then I noticed him lying on my bed, curled in on himself. His back to the door.
“Yoss?”
I sat down on the edge of the bed and put my hand on his arm. “I brought you some lunch…”
He didn’t move. Or acknowledge me in anyway.
“Yoss.”
I leaned over him to see his face and it was then that I noticed the blood on the pillow beneath his head. It had dripped from his nose and splattered onto the white linen.
“Yoss,” I said again, giving him a shake. I tried to stay calm.
Maybe he was only sleeping. He looked like he had just closed his eyes for a minute.
“Hey, sleepy head. I got you some Hershey’s Kisses. Your favorite.” I bent down and kissed his cheek. Warm. He was so, so warm.
But he was so, so still.
The blood continued to drip from his nose.
“Yoss,” I whispered. Iknew.
“Yoss!” I said louder. “Yoss!”
Over and over again I screamed his name.
I pulled out my phone and was about to dial nine-one-one when he moaned a little.
“What’s going on?” he asked, sounding groggy, trying to open his eyes.
“You’re bleeding. I couldn’t wake you up!” I told him, trying to control my impending hysterics.
“What’s going on?” he asked again, trying to sit up, but clearly having no energy, collapsed back onto the pillow. “Where am I?” He looked around my bedroom, his eyes flitting over me.
“It’s me Imi. You’re in my house. Don’t you remember?” I took his hands and held them between my palms. “You’re here with me.”
“Imi,” he sighed, closing his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to keep them open. “I’m just so tired.”
