Page 134 of From Nowhere

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Get some sleep.”

I slide my phone onto my nightstand and curl into a ball on my side. She’s alive. Hundreds of miles from Missoula, but alive.

Eventually, I steal an hour of sleep before jumping into the shower. When I get upstairs, dressed for work and tired as fuck, Tia and Amos greet me from the kitchen table with matching melancholic expressions. I’m sure I look just as sad to them.

“You’re going to work?” Tia squints.

“Maren’s alive—for now. So yeah, I’m going to work because I need to stay busy, and the people there will get the most current updates on her condition.”

“Are you going to see her?” Tia asks.

I grunt, pouring coffee into my thermos. “She’s in Canada.”

“Is her family from here?” Suddenly, Tia seems interested in Maren,that woman, whose name she refused to say when she didn’t want me having anything to do with her.

“No. Nebraska. I’m sure they’re either there or on their way.” I take a sip of my coffee before screwing the lid onto the thermos.

She continues to prod. “Have you met them?”

“No. Nebraska is a ways away. I’m not sure biking there is a good idea.”

Tia frowns. “You know what I mean. They could visit her here.”

“I haven’t met them. Just her roommates and a few other friends. I gotta go so I can check on her cat before work.”

Amos finally breaks his silence. “When are you going to tell Lola about the accident?”

“When I’m ready.”

Tia frowns as I open the back door. “We’ll pray for her.”

I pause for a few seconds, judging her sincerity. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t have the emotional capacity to worry about her thoughts or opinions. “Thanks,” I mumble.

When I get to work, some of my coworkers offer sympathetic smiles. I’ve never tried to keep my relationship with Maren a secret, but I also don’t talk much about my personal life. Since the car accident, I’ve thrived on keeping to myself. But now I know Ira has been busy sharing my relationship status. Knowing her, these people are part of a prayer chain. She’s organized them for other people.

After stuffing my backpack into my locker, I bypass the break room and get to work. By midmorning, Taylor finds me.

“Maren’s out of surgery,” he says.

I climb down the ladder and wipe my forehead with my sleeve. “That’s good.”

“She’s in a coma on a ventilator.”

That’s not as good, but yesterday I assumed she was dead. “What happened?”

“I haven’t heard much. Of course, it’s under investigation, but it could take a while to come to any conclusions, especially if Maren’s in a coma and unable to give us any information. However, I’ve heard speculation that it might have just been extreme turbulence. Other pilots reported rotor-cloud activity. Maren had just finished her last drop. It will get sorted out eventually. She’s alive for now; we both know that’s pretty miraculous. So let’s focus on that.”

I nod several times.

Alive for now.

“When were you going to tell me about you two?” he asks.

“My wife died,” I say.

Taylor’s brow tightens. “Yeah, I know.”

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