The Intrusion

Five

(Wednesday, March 14, 2018)

[Jordan]

I arrive home from my after-work run and swing the door to my apartment open. Mel is sitting at the glass dining table, madly typing away on her phone.

"Hey, Mel," I say.

Her mouth is turned down into a scowl, and her eyes don't even look up at the mention of her name.

"Everything okay?" I walk over and press my hands against the glass table-top, leaving behind sweaty palm-prints. "What's up?"

She looks like she's about to cry. Red capillaries stand out around her hazel irises, and tears pool in her lower lids.

I touch her gently on the shoulder. "What happened?" I'm so bad in situations like this. I don't know how to comfort people that are upset. I'm good with people that are happy—but I don't know what to do to comfort people when they are crying. It scares me.

Finally, Mel looks at me, the tears escaping her eyes and slipping onto her cheeks.

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

"Jordan, can you take me to the airport?"

"Of course," I say without thinking.

She nods a quick thanks, gives me a half smile, and then goes into her room to pack a bag.

I sit down at the dining table, my head in my hands, rubbing my temples with my index fingers. I stretch my eyes wide, blink a couple of times, and then I get up from the chair and head to the door to wait for Mel.

Five minutes later, she comes out of her room with a backpack over her arm.

"Let's go," she says, slipping her feet into her boots and shrugging into a jacket.

I nod, and we make our way down to the garage without saying a word. We get in the car, and then in a matter of minutes find ourselves right in the thick of downtown Vancouver traffic.

She stares out the window as tears run down her face. I still don't know what's wrong, but I don't know how to ask.

"Mel," I finally say when we stop at a red light. "What happened?"

She wipes her eyes and nose. "It's my mom."

Oh no.

"She's had a heart attack."

"Oh God." I don't know what else to say. I have no experience with things like this. "Is she," I begin again, still not knowing where I am going with this.

The light turns green, and I almost forget to press the gas. "Is she," I repeat myself, now driving, "okay?"

"They don't know. She's stable, that's what my brother says. But they don't know the damage right now. I... I just need to get home."

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Oh God, I just want her to get home too.

Mel and I finally pull up to the airport terminal, and I stop the car. "There's a flight leaving at 8:43 to Seattle," Mel says. "I looked it up and managed to get a ticket."

She pulls her backpack out of the backseat as I look at the clock on the dashboard. It's 7:17pm.

"Jordan, can you just wait for like, fifteen minutes, and I'll text you to let you know I've made the flight?" She sniffles and wipes her nose. We look at each other for about thirty seconds, and I know the same thought that is going through her mind is going through mine. Without cell service, how will she text me?

Finally, she sighs. "Never mind. I'll make it."

And then, without another word, she rushes off through the glass doors at the airport terminal and is out of sight.