Page 42 of Embers

Mostly I’m listening for sounds of an engine in the distance.

I wait. And listen. And stare at blurry words on a page.

No Cal.

Eventually it gets dark, and he still hasn’t come back.

As soon as the sun sinks below the horizon, all my anger vanishes, freezes into a terrified dread.

Where the hell is he?

He promised he’d be back before dark.

I put my book away since I haven’t been able to even turn a page for an hour. I walk outside and down the gravel driveway to where it connects with the dirt road. No sounds. No headlights. Nothing but deepening darkness.

He isn’t here.

I return to the cabin since it’s definitely not safe for me to be wandering around in the dark in my pajamas, even in as isolated a spot as this mountain. I should have at least brought a gun with me.

I haven’t missed technology nearly as much as I would have expected, but right now I crave a cell phone like a drug. If we had them, I could just call Cal. He could tell me what was going on and what had delayed him in coming home.

I’d know he was okay.

He probably just got slowed down. Ran into a minor problem or inconvenience and lost a couple of hours. He’ll be okay. He’ll come back as soon as he’s able.

I’m not going to panic for no reason just because it’s dark and he still hasn’t shown up.

Repeating these things over and over again in my mind, I pass another long stretch of time. Then I walk back outside and look at the sky, seeing from the position of the moon that it’s got to be close to midnight.

Where could he be? With any sort of regular delay, he’d be back home by now.

I’m trembling as I walk back inside. A deep, heavy sort of fear. And now I can’t stop my mind from descending into cannibalistic circular thinking, imagining one horrific scenario after another. Of what might have happened to Cal on his trip.

I can’t sleep. Can’t read. Can’t eat or work or walk or stay in one position for more than a few minutes. I’m shaking helplessly and nauseated from terror.

A few hours before dawn, it occurs to me that Cal might not be coming back on purpose. His need to run away from his feelings is so strong that he could have decided it’s better to leave me.

Maybe that’s what’s going on. Maybe he doesn’t want me in any way. Maybe he’s taken off and left me.

I stew obsessively on that possibility for at least an hour, picturing exactly what he would do and how he would do it if he wanted to get away from me. But I finally have to admit that there’s no way in hell it could ever happen.

Not once has Cal abandoned me. Let me down in any way except emotional intimacy. He promised he’d come back to me, and he’d never break his word to me.

Cal would have come back if it was in his power.

Which means he’s incapable of it.

He’s either hurt or dead.

There’s no other explanation.

This final realization shatters me. I’ve been looking out the window for any glimpse of headlights, but there’s nothing but darkness out there. I turn around and stare at our little home. Two beds, pushed back toward the walls since it’s summer and they don’t need to be close to the woodstove. Small kitchenette used mostly for storage since none of the appliances work. A couple of pretty area rugs I found on our scavenging trips. The old recliner with stacks of books nearby.

It’s our home. I’ve grown to love it. But all of it is meaningless without Cal.

And he might never come back.

The wave of grief slams into me, knocking me to my knees on the floor. I bend over, hugging my arms to my stomach as strangled sobs rip their way up my throat.

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