Last Stay

VII. The Woman in Blue

My feet begin to walk towards the bridge before my brain fully registers the action. I'm half-running by the time I reach the spot where she's standing.

"Long time no see," Angela says without taking her eyes off the river.

"I've been looking everywhere for...you," I mutter.

She turns around, walks up to me, runs her soft hands along my jaw and removes my sunglasses.

"You're looking a little pale, and you could use a shave," she smiles, stroking my chin.

"That bad?" I chuckle.

"Not really, you just look a little more rugged than usual. But I kinda like it."

I grin. "In that case, I think I'll keep it."

"Good," she beams. "Also, you should remember to book our tickets for May."

I wrinkle my brow. "What tickets?"

"Did you actually forget or is this your way of saying that you don't want to go see Liverpool win the Premier League in person? Or are you just planning on going without me?" she winks.

Shit.

I raise my eyebrow. "Why would I do that?"

"Oh, I don't know," she shrugs, "maybe you're planning on meeting up with your little girlfriend."

Or maybe I just remembered that we'll have to adjust those plans.

"Well, that would be a problem, except..." I smirk.

She squeezes my arm. "Except what?"

"Except for the fact that I did something crazy last year, and married my little girlfriend."

"Right! I recall being there now—in a white dress, right?" she says, tugging on the collar of my coat.

I nod and lean down to plant a kiss on her willing lips. And for a moment, everything seems right with the world because she's back in my arms again.

"No, no," I whisper, feeling her pull away.

Angela giggles. "There'll be that and more once we're in jolly old England—plus there's a seat sale on right now."

Fuck my life. Why'd the merger have to get scheduled for May? I don't want to put off another trip—I know how much this means to her, but I'll need to be in Toronto for most of May.

"I hate to tell you this," I say, looking directly into her brown eyes.

"What?" she asks as a look of concern begins to scar her face.

We can't go in May.

"Your accounting is showing," I whisper.

Angela punches me in the arm and then puts on her cute little pout.

"Saving money isn't a criminal offence," she quips.

"True fact; I just like teasing you about it."

"Plus, you're long overdue making up for cutting our honeymoon short."

And I'm trying to get you in a good mood before telling you that we'll have to miss sitting in Anfield Stadium this year.

I smirk.

Angela tilts her head. "What now?"

"Nothing," I shake my head, "just thinking about how much you like when I make up for things."

Fighting back a smile with rosy-red cheeks, she says, "Have I ever told you that I hate that I love you?"

"Only every other Tuesday or when I forget to load the dishwasher."

And when work throws a wedge in our plans.

"Then I might have to step up my game." She grins and pulls me in for another kiss.

I close my eyes, feeling those soft lips pressing against mine again.

Fuck, I missed this.

When we break off, she giggles, and I feel a dawning smile on my face.

I have to tell her now so we can make new plans, and give her some time to walk off the disappointment.

"Cariño," I exhale, keeping my eyes closed. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Cariño?" I repeat, but when she doesn't reply, I open my eyes and find that I'm alone on the bridge.

A frigid gust cuts right through me, increasing the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach.

She can't be gone.

I look around, searching for any trace of my wife but find nothing. And then I notice my sunglasses lying on the ground.

She took these off my face before—

I hear a large splash coming from the river, and rush over to see what caused it. A sharp pain shoots through my chest as I watch Angela sinking into the depths of the murky waters. Her face and hands have taken on a grey-blue hue, looking more like a rotting corpse than a living soul.

With a racing heart, I climb up onto the stone railing, grabbing the lamp pole for balance. But as I'm about to jump over the edge, her left hand rises out of the river, and points straight at me before disappearing beneath the surface.

In the reflection of the rippling waters, I see a shadowy, red glow looming behind me, causing me to jerk my head to the side. My foot slips, but I cling to the lamp pole and manage to pull myself back up.

Panting, I look behind me and see nothing there. Then I glance back to the river, and a shiver runs through my body, shaking me to my core. The water looks glass-still and undisturbed like an old tomb.

But I know I saw her...she was—

"Don't jump!" someone yells from the edge of the bridge.

I turn around to see a middle-aged woman and her Golden Retriever on a pink leash rushing towards me; I climb down just before they arrive.

"Are you okay?" she asks, holding her hand over her heart.

No.

But I keep that thought to myself and manage a nod.

"I'm Jane, and this is Molly," she gestures to the dog. "If she hadn't barked—I wouldn't have seen you before you—I wouldn't have been able to—I'm just glad I got here in time," Jane says breathlessly.

"Thank you," I mumble. "Did you see where the woman in the blue coat went?"

Jane wrinkles her brow. "A woman? No, I only saw you."

Molly runs over to the railing. She sniffs the ground, pokes her nose through one of the gaps between the stone balusters and starts barking at the river.

My stomach starts twisting into knots. "Sorry," I mutter. "I have to go."

I pick up my sunglasses and sprint away from the bridge. Jane's indistinct voice rings through the air mixed with Molly's barking. But I keep running until all I can hear is the sound of my feet hitting the damp pavement.

Once the car comes into sight, I slow down and try to make sense of what just happened. But I'm drawing a blank. The more I rack my brain, the emptier I feel. My lungs are burning as I put my hands on my knees to try and catch my breath. I wish I could forget the touch of her hand and the taste of her lips...but I can still feel them lingering like an unseen presence.

Something's happening to me, but I don't know what. All I know is that for a moment, I had found her—I'd found my wife...and I need to keep searching. I need to find her again...no matter what.

I take one last look at the hotel across the street before turning to face the river in the distance. A lump forms in my throat as I remember what the ominous voice said earlier: she's not here.

Somehow, I know the voice is right. And that terrifies me.