Page 59 of The Other Side of Apart

I stuff the box inside my duffle bag along with all my clothes and the envelope of cash from my dresser—savings from my paychecks. Marcus’s is stashed in a kitchen cupboard, and I won’t touch that. He’ll need it to get back to Stanford where I’ll be with him next week. Five days.

I glance around the apartment one last time while Charlie weaves between my legs. My heart leaves a trail of shatteredpieces as I move toward Buddha, snatch him, and drop him in my bag. My hand hovers over Magic 8, and I pick it up, asking a silent question:

Am I doing the right thing?

I hesitate, then flip it over, promising myself if I get a negative response, I’ll change my mind and make another plan. But as the message bubbles to the surface, my heart cracks and there’s no way I’ll ever be able to put the shattered pieces of it back together:

It is decidedly so.

With trembling hands, I place Magic 8 back on the table. Charlie jumps up and purrs, rubbing against me. Tears drop into his fur, and I pick him up again, nuzzling him closer. “Tell Marcus I’ll be back. He’s gonna need you. I love you both.” I set Charlie on the table and turn toward the door, but I close my eyes. I have to tell Marcus something. I need him to know I’ll be back.

Grabbing a pen and the unopened electricity bill envelope on the counter, I force my hand to stay steady and write a few words. They’re not enough, but will have to do. I’ve shut my phone’s location off so it can’t be traced; I can’t have any flags on either of my passports or I’ll never get back into the country. I can’t call him. If I hear his voice, there’s no way I’ll go through with this.

I drop the pen and grab my coat and bag on the way to the door, not looking back. If I do, my love for Marcus and the memories we’ve made will devour what little is left of me. I might not be back in this place, but I’ll be back to Marcus, ready to start our new life without Nick.

Scraping together what little courage I still have, I turn on my phone and google a phone number, then push send.

Even if I have to leave, there’s no way I’m leaving Marcus alone in a hospital, and there’s only one person I trust to take care of him until I get back.

After a few rings, someone answers. “San Francisco Police Department. How may I direct your call?” the voice on the other end of the phone asks.

“Detective Miller, please.”

“One moment.”

There are a few clicks, then a beep. Another. Five more before the same voice tells me he’s out of the office for a few days, and can they take a message? I close my eyes, relay the message I’ve rehearsed for the last twenty minutes. “Can you tell him his son is in Newburg, Indiana at Deaconses Gateway Hospital? He’s been shot but is fine and needs to come home.”

CHAPTER 33

“Mei’s here somewhere. The police wanted to get her statement, so she can’t be far,” I tell the discharge nurse after she gives me the green light to take my useless leg and go home. Not that we have a home anymore. But first, I gotta get out of this hospital before I can figure out how we’re gonna get to California. My zoom meeting with the Stanford coaches is in two days. I wanted it to be in person, but there’s no way now.

“I’ll check again,” the nurse says, moving the IV stand behind my bed. “Maybe she was in the bathroom or grabbing something to eat. Can you try calling her? Either way, you are free to go as soon as she’s back.”

Can’t run, can hardly walk. Can’t go look for Mei, and the longer she’s gone, the more seriously I emotionally spiral. I know I hurt her with my words, but she’s gotta be here somewhere. Unless the cops found out who she is and hauled her away, just like Dad said they would.

All I can do is sit here and replay our conversation and wonder how I’m ever gonna play soccer again and where we’ll be in two days when I’m supposed to have my virtual meeting with the Stanford coaching staff. My thoughts drop into worst-case scenario while people do things for me, including looking for Mei and watching me pee like that nurse just did before she signed discharge papers. I avoid eye contact with her when she leaves. Grimacing, I lean over the railing to grab my phone from the plastic souvenir hospital bag on the bedside table.

I’m relieved to see it still has 27% battery, so I dial Mei’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. I dial again. Same thing. Her phone’s dead. We’ve been here for almost twenty-four hours. Clicking on the locator app, I squint at the screen, my eyes hazy and heavy from no real sleep. I blink, check again. Her location says she’s at the apartment. Like, the place where Nick showed up and shot me. Or at least she was forty-seven minutes ago. Swearing, I scan the room for crutches, but they’re in the farthest corner by my bloody shoes and bag of bloodier clothes.

No way Mei would go back there. I check the location again. No updates. She wouldn’t go back. Would she? To pack our stuff, maybe? Grab her charger? But then her phone wouldn’t be dead.

I ease back against the upright bed and pray the nurse finds Mei coming out of the bathroom or grabbing something to eat in the cafeteria. The sooner she gets here, the sooner we can get to a hotel. Or wherever. Somewhere I can rest enough to look normal and act normal during my coach meeting. I flex my leg again, just to make sure it’s still there. The ache and throb reassure me it is, but will it run again? The doctor said yes the last ten times I asked him, but what if he’s wrong? What if?—

My focus snaps to the window, and I hobble to it. Where’s Mei? A woman in high heels strolls past the window, crying as she talks on the phone, a guy sitting on a bench, staring at his feet. Those people can walk but they’ve got other problems maybe bigger than mine. This place is charged with agony and unfairness. Maybe Mei couldn’t take it anymore. Or couldn’t take my words. Maybe she’s finding us a place to go. But it wouldn’t take this long.

I check the clock. It’s been over an hour and a half since she left me with the cops. The worst of the worst-case scenarios snakes through my mind. Maybe Nick found her. He could have forced her back to the apartment to get the diamonds. Forced her to do other things. He could’ve?—

No. I squeeze my eyes shut to cut off the thought. Then again, worst-case scenarios always seem to be just around the corner. I wanna get out of here, but I can’t even move around until someone comes to get me out of this dress and onto my crutches so I can be done with this place and find Mei myself.

I swear at my leg like it’s the one to blame and not Nick. Never thought I’d be shot. Should’ve taken the knife to him when I had the chance.

The nurse breezes back into my room, no Mei. “Were you able to get ahold of her?”

“No…” Panic rises, swirls, but I steady my voice so she doesn’t suspect anything. “Her phone’s dead. Probably went home to get her charger or something.” I wave my hand like I couldn’t find the right brand of peanut butter and not because my wife’s missing. “I’ll call our neighbor to come pick me up. Maybe she’s seen Mei.”

But I don’t call a neighbor—I order a ride and a different nurse helps me change and get downstairs into the car waiting at the curb, then hands me my bag of bloody clothes. I obsessively call Mei on the ride back to our apartment. But after attempt twenty-five, I stare out the car window as a stranger drives me back to a crime scene. I pray in the backseat, whispering to myself and to God. I wanna yell at the driver to go faster, but he’s an old man, and there’s too much traffic for a Wednesday afternoon.

When we get to our complex, the driver goes the extra mile and helps me out of the car and up the three flights of stairs that were no problem twenty-four hours ago.

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