Page 60 of The Other Side of Apart

When we get to the landing, I tell the driver I can walk from here. I thank him and hobble down the hallway, pretending I’m relieved to be home instead of freaked out of my mind to open that door and find Nick standing there, waiting for the final round. I shove my key into the lock, yellow police tape still dangling from the doorjamb. I stumble inside, one crutch at a time. “Mei?”

The place is empty—no Mei, no Nick, everything where I last remember it being, including the dried smears of blood. There’s still food on the counter from when I was making Mei dinner before Nick showed up. Powder on the floor where the police did whatever they did after I passed out in the blood puddles and was hauled to the hospital. It’s like Mei hasn’t been here, so where is she?

“Mei?” Not sure why I’m calling for her—I can see the whole apartment from where I’m leaning against the wall, trying to stay balanced. When only silence answers, I crutch as fast as I can across the blood-streaked floor to our room and the tiny closet, my breathing loud in the silent apartment.

I yank the door open and take stock of the shelves. Her bag and coat are gone. I drop my crutches and use the wall to steady myself as I hop to our rickety dresser and open the top drawer where Mei keeps her clothes. It sails out of its slot, empty.

I drag in air, but too much panic rushes in with it. She was so quiet after we fought two nights ago. It was our worst one yet, and we’ve had a few. I tried to get her to talk, unnerved and groveling for forgiveness, but she’d fallen asleep, and I’d kissed her neck, pleading with my lips. I’d held her the rest of the night, whispering “I love you,” even though it wasn’t enough; I just wanted those words to be the only ones ringing through her head when she woke up. Hoped they’d erase the ones I’d hurled at her earlier.

I’d watched her sleep because I couldn’t stand myself for what I’d said, afraid if I blinked, she’d disappear. But in the morning, she’d smiled her sleepy smile, and I’d made us breakfast before work like I did every morning. I thought we were good. But what if she’s had enough and left?

No.

In Vegas, we’d promised each other we’d make our situation work, no matter where or what. So no—there’s gotta be another explanation. My eyes go to the bathroom door, its knob still missing from when I slammed it after losing patience with our life again. I hobble over, but the counter’s empty—no flat iron, no toothbrush. I grimace and swear as I bend over and throw open the cupboard. The tampon box is gone. Diamonds—gone. Nick wanted them. Maybe she took them to give to him? No. She wouldn’t.

My breathing is ragged as I turn to the sofa and rip off the cushions, pulling out the envelope of documents. The pain racing up and down my leg is nothing compared to the pain that floods my chest as my heart plummets. My stuff is there, hers isn’t.

Leaning against the couch, I wrestle cold, creeping panic, then jerk into motion toward the door. I have to move—keep moving until I find her, no matter how slow. Nick didn’t take her. She left. Took everything that belonged to her. Everything but me.

She wouldn’t leave, though. We promised each other. Then maybe Nick did take her—made it look like she left willingly. Desperation overtakes me, and I press my palms to my eyes and swear in the silence, trying to catch my breath and rational thoughts. Nick wouldn’t have waited for her to gather everything. He would’ve taken what he wanted and left the wreckage, like he has on her face so many times. Like he did to me yesterday.

I hop on one foot toward the door, pain shooting up my leg. I grab the card table as I pass and stop. Magic 8 is there, but Buddha—who hasn’t moved since we placed him there four months ago—isn’t. Nick wouldn’t have taken Buddha. But Mei would have. And that’s her writing on an envelope where Buddha was. I snatch the envelope. My eyes devour the words, but my mind rejects them, so I read the note again. Again and again, until the period at the end of her sentence marks the end of this life, too.

Mei left me.

My words left her black and blue on the inside, and she left.

I gulp in air like I’ve been kicked in the gut. Like my body’s collapsing, lung by lung, rib by rib, folding itself away from this moment.

I’m lying on my back on the couch, staring at the ceiling that’s gonna cave in any minute. Smother me, break me. Take me out of this reality. I don’t even bother to blink, no matter how much my eyes burn; they can’t match the throbbing, twisting ache in my chest. In my whole body. Wish I’d lost my leg so there’d be one less place to hurt. I don’t close my eyes because if I do, I’ll see the words she scrawled on the back of our electricity bill:

Marcus, I know this isn’t the life you want so I’m fixing it. I love you 365-forever, Mei

I swallow, clutching the note and my phone for dear life, like they’ll save me from falling off this Mei cliff. She left me. She left our life and our future and us, thinking that would fix it. Ihad it fixed, except for the Nick part. I had a way out of it. But she packed her bags and took off. Left a note to let me know she’s fixing our life. By leaving. What does “fixing it” even mean? I wanted to leave this particular version of our life, but not without her.

Where did she even go? There’s nowhere safe for her to go. Nothing she can fix, only more things to break, and I pray she’ll at least stay in one piece.

I forget how to breathe and when my chest screams for air, I take sputtering breaths, like I might actually be dying. I almost died yesterday. Pretty sure it’s happening today.

Charlie headbutts my chin and paws my chest, and I let his claws dig into me because it feels good to have different pain. He lays between my shoulder and neck, and I reach up and hold him to me, gripping my phone tighter. I’ve called her countless times from this couch and gotten the same result every time: nothing. I’ve been on the receiving end of her nothing before and know exactly where it leads—to days and weeks without Mei. The only thing that brought us back together last time was me finding her bloody and beaten after Nick got to her.

I’m afraid of history repeating itself, but worse this time. Where do I even start looking for her? Or will I just lay here on this couch, waiting to see if she ever comes back? Let the days slip past, including my coach meeting tomorrow? Who cares about that now? I just want Mei here. I want out of this place, this situation, this moment. But I don’t have a way of making any of it happen. Except for one. One number I can call.

I’ve dialed his number countless times too but couldn’t bring myself to hit the call button to tell him everything in my life shattered with my leg.

Tears rush my eyes, and they’re hot, loaded with anger, betrayal, loss. They drip off my face as I look around the empty, silent apartment, gathering memories.

There were nights we spent exploring each other—nights that melted into mornings when I had to skip sleep and tear myself from Mei to hit the shower and get to work. We’ve talked for hours in this place. Laughed our heads off until Mei had to run for the bathroom or pee her pants. Spent Saturday mornings eating dry cereal and watching our favorite childhood cartoons, pretending life wasn’t complicated. We’ve stared at the glow-in-the-dark message I wrote on the ceiling for Mei and talked about our future.

I think about this ratty couch I’m slowly dying on, where we spent an hour last week facing each other, trying to find a word that rhymes with orange for her crossword puzzle. We devoured five grilled cheese sandwiches between us and drank the last of the hot chocolate, trying for the perfect chocolate ’stache.

I move my leg and swear. Wipe my face with my shirt and come undone until the apartment’s full of shadows, thoughts and memories of every moment spent here. Charlie curls up on my chest like he’s afraid, too, and he doesn’t purr like he normally does.

“I don’t know what to do,” I say to him, my voice ragged. “This has always been my biggest fear, and I thought I knew what I’d do if it happened, and it’s not this.” How ironic that I can’t even run after her, even if I knew where to run. I can’t run away from here, either, no matter how much I need to. I don’t have anywhere to go. Except backwards.

I dial my last resort number again and push send.

The beeping stops, the air on the other end expands. “This is Miller.”

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