Five years later…
It’s a cloudy day and the park is mostly empty. I’m going to grab a coffee on the way so I can sit down in the silence and be alone for a little while. My parents think the amount of time I spend in the quiet isn’t healthy, but I like it. When no one else is around there’s nothing to remind me of her. There are no sounds or smells that make me wish for the millionth time that I hadn’t listened to her that night. That I didn’t let her go.
I graduated from college at the top of my class with a double masters in under four years. My university gave me every accolade under the sun for my research and development, but it was the only thing I had to keep me going after I lost her.
I can’t even think of her name without a hole growing in my chest and threatening to swallow me, so I avoid it. One time at the grocery store I noticed an employee’s name tag with her name on it and I never went back there again. I just dropped my basket on the floor and walked out. It was too painful to know that she could be right there under my nose and I’d never find her.
Everything in my life changed the day I woke up and she wasn’t there. I became obsessed and after I’d exhausted every legal resource I could, I went to the illegal ones. It was as if she fell off the face of the earth, and that’s when I knew that finding her was up to me.
When I graduated I went to the top digital engineering college in the country. From there I developed a software that was unlike anything on the market. It was so good that the military wanted to take it from me, but instead I agreed to let them use it in exchange for a favor. I have her name running on the program constantly so if there’s ever someone that matches her information I’m the first to know. They didn’t ask questions, they just wanted to make sure I wasn’t selling it to another country.
The money I made off the program is enough that I never have to work again, so at least there’s that. Now I develop smaller, less dangerous software for everyday use. I wouldn’t call it a passion of mine, but it’s something to keep me busy. It’s something I can do alone and I’m good at it, but it won’t ever replace the empty space she left.
When I get to the little stand that sells coffee I give the young woman my order and pay. She smiles at me, but I don’t say anything as I wait.
“How are you doing this morning?” she says cheerfully, and I just nod. “It’s a gloomy day, thanks for coming over and keeping me company.” This time she laughs at her own joke and I look away uninterested.
When my coffee is ready I take a step forward and reach out to take my cup. Just as I hold onto it, her fingers graze mine and I jerk back, spilling some of the coffee on my hand. It scalds me, but I ignore it.
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. Let me get you another.”
“I’m married,” is all I say in response as I grab a napkin and take my half a cup of coffee with me.
I’m not good with people anymore. I used to be laid back and fun, but she took that with her. Everything in me that was good and happy shut down and now I’m in a state of hypothermia until I find her and she can thaw me out.
A few weeks after she left, my parents took me to a therapist. She called it post-traumatic stress disorder and talked to them about how to handle it. They did what they could to find her and anyone else that might know where they went, but nothing turned up.
The morning after her dad caught us is still crystal clear to me and that’s what I hate the most. I’ve tried to hold on to every silly memory she and I made, but it’s been a long time and some things are fading. But the memory of waking up and walking across the field to her house is fresh. I can even remember the way the light shone through her window to reveal a bed that had never been slept in. By the time panic set in and I broke into the house it was too late. There wasn’t a single trace of evidence and I spent hours combing through that house for something. Anything.
I walk all through the park until I get to the far side of the pond. There are a pair of swans there I like to watch and a bench that’s under a tree. If she were with me I’d let her put her head in my lap while I read to her. She used to love it when I’d do that. The memory is so painful that it makes me double over and I grab my stomach. It’s been five long years and still every day is like the day she left.
I breathe deep and try to focus on what’s in front of me. My therapist said that naming things nearby will help ground me and keep me from going into a panic. Sometimes it works, and other times it’s almost impossible to keep going. One of the only things that helps is knowing that one day I will find her again. I just have to wait until that moment.
The swans swim close and I open my bag and pull out some bread for them. I toss it into the water and they gobble it up quickly and then swim away side by side. I remember us reading about swans mating for life and she said it was the sweetest thing she’d ever heard. She said if reincarnation was real that’s what she wanted to come back as. I told her I did, too, but that’s only so I could be with her forever all over again.
Who finds the love of their life in second grade?
There are emails about work and missed messages from my parents I should answer. There are even some texts from Sam who is still good about checking in on me, but today I ignore them. That’s because today is our anniversary. On this day sixteen years ago, I met her for the first time. This day is probably the hardest other than her birthday and each year it gets harder. I know that’s why everyone is calling and texting to make sure I’m okay. I’m not, and I don’t feel like pretending I am either. At least not at the moment. Today I just want to sit here and think of her and how much I miss her.
It’s late in the day and my coffee has gone cold when my phone begins to vibrate. I ignore it, but then it vibrates again right after and I look at the screen. It’s a blocked number and I swipe my thumb across the screen to answer.
“This is Reed Sanders.”
“It’s Agent Davis, we’ve found her, sir.”
There’s a ringing in my ears and I’m dizzy when I stand up too fast, but I try to focus as my feet begin to move on their own.
“Say that again.”
“Cami Evans, the woman you’ve been searching for. We’ve found a woman fitting her description with the same name and date of birth you’re looking for. We’ve done the scans and the program has matched her one hundred percent. She checked into a women’s shelter just outside Phoenix, Arizona.”
“What?” I have a million questions ready to jump out of my mouth, but my lungs are burning because I’m running through the park as hard as I can and I can’t ask them.
“I’m emailing you all the details, but we’ve used your program and we’ve done the digital scans and it’s a match. When can you be ready to board a plane?”
“I’m on my way,” I say as I jump in my car and speed away from the curb.