Dusk Harbor 1999

Where are You?

Jordan hated himself for what he had done. As he drummed his fingers on the plastic table in the dark and stared into his half-empty cup of coffee, he cursed himself. Wished he could go back in time and say no to Lydia's offer of going out to a bar instead of coffee. Go back and reject her coming over to his place. Even though he and Allie had a somewhat open relationship, he should have called her to let her know. They always ran it by each other first. But Allie wasn't answering his calls or texts. He tried seven times to get a hold of her in the past three hours.

Worry made his palms itch.

Lydia was asleep with her face buried in the couch, he could see her bare, smooth skin through the gaping holes in the tattered knit blanket. Some on her shoulders, one near her lower back. Another along her arm, all highlighted by the soft moonlight drifting in through the tiny window above her.

Every time he glanced at her, he could feel his ears going hot and the nausea in his stomach growing worse. He felt like he was going to be sick. Had that out-of-touch-with-reality feeling. He loved Allie. More than he could ever express to her. He didn't know why they couldn't fully commit to each other. It was always a puzzle to him. One that kept him up many nights. I can't do this again. When I find her I'm gonna tell her I wanna close our relationship. I want only her. Maybe I'll propose. Nah, not yet. Not ready for that. Maybe a promise ring? Yeah, that could work!

He flicked his eyes to his phone, lying a few inches beyond his coffee cup. He reached out with three wobbling fingers and dragged it towards him. Pressed three. The speed dial number for Allie. Three was for March the Third. The day they first met years ago. He put it to his ear and let out a shaky breath. Ran a hand over his sweating forehead. Prayed she'd answer.

It immediately went to voicemail.

Her phone was off. Or dead.

Allie, where are you?

He straightened his arms out across the table and dropped his head onto them. Deflated with a long slow breath. His fingernails scraped at the plastic and curled in toward his palms. Knuckles tightened as he formed fists. Beat them against the table lightly. He pulled his arms apart and let nose and mouth smush against the table's surface. Winced from the pain in his jaw. It wasn't broken, thankfully. But the spot where he'd lost his tooth was throbbing. The inside of his cheek on that side was cut up. Tasted like metal. Pre-punished for going with Lydia? Huh. Seems appropriate.

His eyelids sealed shut.

Tiredness was hacking at his bones. Adrenaline was wearing off. The pain from his wounds was edging in. He let himself relax. Turned his head to the side so he wouldn't suffocate. Took a few deep slow breaths. He came to the stand at the edge of sleep. Like it was a lake and all he had to do was leap off the dock.

It seemed so easy to give in. He let himself fall into it. And for the first time in five days, he went to sleep.