Page 3 of Tanner
She holds up one manicure finger to me. She continues typing for a few seconds before she stops and looks up at me.
"Can I help you?" She asks in a sugary sweet Southern accent that sounds more like she's from Georgia rather than here in Knight's Ridge, North Carolina.
“I’m here to see Tanner—" I pause, realizing at this moment, I don't know this guy's name.
“Does he have a last name, sweetie?”
I'm sure he does, but heck if I know it.
“Rachel?” A deep voice asks from behind me.
I turn and see Ethan. He’s holding what I can only assume is an egg salad sandwich.
“Oh good,” I sigh in relief. “I was just coming to see you.”
A tired smile spreads across his face when he sees me hold up the greasy brown bag full of food for him. The dark circles under his eyes and the slump of his shoulders show the stress Ethan’s been dealing with in the past week.
The guy should be on cloud nine with happiness, having just gotten engaged to Hazel. But it’s clear his true happiness is on hold until his friend is okay.
“How’s Tanner doing?” I ask, holding out the bag of food to him.
He chucks the plastic-wrapped egg salad sandwich into the trash bin and takes the bag.
“He’s still hasn’t woken up.”
“He will,” I tell him with a certainty I don’t feel.
I shouldn’t be making promises I can’t keep, but it’s clear that Ethan needs hope, even if it’s just for his sake.
We walk towards the elevators and ride up in silence. He didn’t ask, but it feels like Ethan doesn’t want to be alone. He’s probably been without someone to talk to all day.
I follow Ethan into Tanner’s room and stop dead in my tracks and gasp in surprise.
“Oh my god.” I put my hand over my mouth.
Tanner is him. My crush from the book store. Suddenly his week of absences makes sense. He's been here in a coma.
“What is it?” Ethan asks, the concern etched on his tired face.
I look at Ethan and then back at Tanner. “I know him.”
“You do?”
TANNER
The sweet familiar voice scratches at my subconscious. I look around, but I can't see anything. There is nothing but darkness. But I hear her.
“He comes into my store every day.”
I try to focus on the sound of her voice, needing it like a man in the desert needs water. My body feels so heavy and immobile.
Why can’t I open my eyes?
“I didn’t know what to think when he hadn’t shown up in the past few days. It seems so glaringly obvious now. I feel like an idiot for not putting two and two together sooner.”
The more I hear her speak, the more control over my body I become. I know I’m not asleep, but I’m not awake either. There’s a flicker of light that cuts through the darkness.
Flicker, flicker, glow.
