Delayed, Nathan Kingsly [read aloud txt] 📗

“Think of what you know about her. Does she seem like the type to not give you what you need to find her?”

“No, but she didn’t seem the type to walk out on me either.”

“Can you blame her?” Mia questions.

“Mia!” My mother scolds. “That’s it. If you’ve got nothing helpful to add, then go find something else to do. You’d think you'd grow up and act your age.”

“Acting isn’t in my skill set, but I’ll go. I still need to pack a few things before my trip. Don’t forget ...” She stands looking at me. “Pick Daniel and me up at 7:15 tomorrow morning.”

"Believe me, even if I wanted to forget, I couldn't with how many times you've reminded me."

"I'll call you at six." A smile grows on her mouth that speaks of evil intentions.

"Don't, or I'll make you pay."

Her smile stays in place as she waves while walking out of sight. "Better get to bed early."

"Swear to God, Mia!" I'm not sure she hears me over the slamming of the door, but even if she did, it wouldn't make any difference.

Mom and I spent several hours combing over what Mia and I already searched through. Then, we looked for anyone with a last name starting with a B in the wedding announcements of every available online newspaper. There were no mentions of a sister named Emma. It’s no use.

It’s been dead end after dead end, and I’ve given up. With so little to go on, it seems clear that she never intended on being found.

Though that night, while lying in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about her and if I’m missing something obvious.

My head turns to the window at the sound of rain. I wish it would drown me in something other than my thoughts, but everything seems to remind me of what I’m missing. The light patter against the glass, and then lightning strikes. Much as it had done that night and bringing a flash of focus into the otherwise pitch room. I’d looked into her face, watched her features change as she came, watched as her face softened, and searched for something I wasn’t willing to give. Damn it. I now wish I’d taken my time, given in; maybe it would have changed her decision. Maybe, If I’d given more, more to hold onto, she would have stayed. Maybe I did this.

I shake the thought away. No, I shared more with her than I shared with another, and it did nothing to change her mind. Whatever her reasons, she chose to leave, and there’s nothing I can do about that.

Six am comes with a start. I must have fallen asleep; the ringing of my cell has me scrambling to make the noise stop. My legs tangle in the sheets, and I cuss ferociously. As soon as I hit the reject button on Mia’s call, I rip the sheets away and sit on the bed, waiting for my breath to return to normal. My elbows on my knees, I grip my head in both hands, pressing the heels of my palms into my eye sockets.

Sighing, I leave the phone to ring as I head to the kitchen to make coffee. Before long, I have it in a cup and sit at the table, taking my first sip. Running my hands through my hair, my body aches from a nearly sleepless night, and the sleep I managed to get must have been restless. The remnants of a dream linger out of reach, grasping an edge a haunting chill has me reaching back.

There’s no way that what I’m doing is healthy. The word is most definitely obsessed now. I can’t think of anything but her. When I’m at work, I do my best to concentrate on what’s in front of me, but it’s too like my last job that it wanders. When I get home, I force myself to do the classes, I take the quizzes, but there’s an obvious detachment.

When I started to put my life back on track, I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t about her. I want to be good enough for her, so when I find her, she’d have no answer other than yes. Now, there’s no way I can convince myself that there isn’t a screw loose somewhere. I’m fixing myself for a woman that left. I can’t keep holding onto a ghost.

Taking one more gulp of my coffee, I push away from the table and head towards the bathroom. With every step, I’m convinced that I’m making the right decision.

Showering, I go to the bedroom and dress in time for Mia to give me another call.

“I’ll be there in ten,” I say into the receiver. I smirk as I hear her outrage before ending the call.

I wave down the bartender and order my usual drink. Instead of drinking here, I should wait till I get home, but I need a place to let my mind wander. Mom is behind locked doors, the alarm system armed and linked to my phone. My sister is with her boyfriend on a plane to Minnesota of all places.

“Thanks,” I tell the barkeep and hand him a ten. “Keep the change.”

Moving from the bar, I sit at one of the tables skirting the edges of the airport foot traffic. So few people make their way to their destinations with soothed expressions and lazy strides. Though now that I notice those that do, I watch them.

With all the chaos around them, they are not allowing others to dictate their mood or pace. I want to be them.

A man, dressed in a hideous Hawaiian shirt stands next to his other half with a smile on his face. She screeches about how the stewardess banged that cart into her elbow on purpose. She is twisting herself into a contortionist to try and show him the damage. He grabs her arm, brings it to his lips, whispers something, and makes her smile as if the bruise