My hands shake as I look at the timestamps: 7:47 PM, 7:52 PM, 8:00 PM, 8:23 PM, 8:54PM, 9:07 PM, on and on until 11:08 PM.
While I was working, Jordan was calling. While I was having coffee and crying, needing him, he was calling. And while I was unconscious on the side of the road, he was calling. Over and over.
Why did he call that many times?
I open my messaging app and see the long thread of his messages I left on read. The last is from a week ago.
Jordan:
We'll never fix this if you won't talk to me.
My eyes sting. I don't even recall reading that text. I type a reply.
Me:
Jordan, I'm sorry I've been ignoring your calls. I've just been too hurt and ashamed. Please tell me you're okay?
I press send and instantly get a'Not Delivered'notification.
I try again.
Not Delivered.
Oh God.What if something has happened to him? What if he needed me last night? What if he was dying?
The monitor beeps faster. My breath comes in short, sharp gasps.
"I think he's hurt Mom."
"Who's hurt? Bree?"
I try to get out of bed but Mom's hands push me back down. "Where do you think you're going—?"
I tear out my IV. "Jordan needs me, Mom!"
"Oh, hell no! You need to stay put!" Mom grabs me. "Nurse! We need help in here!"
Two nurses rush in. One pries the phone from my hands and pins me down while the other holds up a syringe.
"Just something to help you rest, honey," she says.
Within moments, the room blurs to nothing.
It's been five days.
My calls to Jordan still end in the same robotic voice. No messages are being delivered.
I'm now lucid enough to know I can't go to him. Still, guilt and worry tear at me. I imagine him hurt and dying, needing me while I ignored his calls.
I keep my phone beside me at all times, lunging for it every time it beeps, hoping it's Jordan.
I barely sleep. Barely eat. Mom watches me with exasperated sighs but otherwise says nothing.
Finally, on the sixth morning, I drag myself out of bed, heartsick, and get dressed for work. Mom insists I still need rest, and although the manager gave me a week off work to heal, I can't stay in bed one more minute.
As I head out of my room, I hear Drew and Mom talking in low voices in the kitchen.
I pause in the hallway to listen.
