Regan tossed a nickel up in the air, caught it in her hand. She shook it inside the cage her fist made, feeling it careen off the sides, as trapped as she felt in her apartment at the moment. As trapped as she felt in her own skin.
She tossed it up again. In order for coin-tossing to work, you needed two distinct options. Two choices, on opposite ends of the spectrum, either of which were well within the flipper’s realm of control. Right now, she had none. Find Luke, vs. don’t find Luke. That wouldn’t work. Neither one of those were within her control.
Or, quit worrying, vs. continue worrying. A simple coin toss wouldn’t be able to change her mind on that one. She was worried. Oh, yeah. Panicked, in fact.
Luke had stormed out of the apartment this morning, and now it was approaching night. No call, no word. Where was he?
Regan slammed the nickel down on the table and went to the kitchen. Tea. A nice cup of warm tea with lemon always had the ability to calm her down. At least it had in the past. It was worth a try.
She rested her hip against the counter, drumming her fingernails against the Formica top. Was he okay? Was he hurt? Had he run away Been kidnapped? Once the uncertainty was removed, she could probably deal with whatever it was. But this wondering was driving her absolutely insane.
The phone rang. She crossed the room in two strides and lifted it in a whoosh, whacking her ear and nearly debilitating it in her enthusiasm. “Hello? Oh, Liz. Listen, I can’t talk now. I’m waiting on a call. I have to keep the line free. Bye.”
She slammed the phone down right in the middle of her friend’s sentence. There was a time for her gal pal’s chattiness, but it wasn’t now. Hopefully her curt message had hit its mark, and Liz wouldn’t call back to clarify.
Over in the kitchen, the teapot whistled and Regan ran back, grabbing the pot off the burner to stop its shriek. She poured the hot water and watched it seep over the bag in the cup, causing the clear liquid to turn cloudy.
Kind of like her life. This morning, it was clear. All was right, or at least, okay. Luke was here, he was safe. Not happy, granted, but at least out of harm’s way. By noon, her life was like this new cup of tea. Murky, no longer translucent. She had no idea what had happened, and it was killing her.
The phone rang, and she put the cup down and ran over to it again. Don’t let it be Liz. “Hello?”
The first thing to hit her ear was static. Crackle, crackle, crackle, then a man’s voice. Unintelligible, the words he was actually saying, but she determined it to be male. “Hello? What? I can’t hear you! We have a bad connection.”
The voice continued, either oblivious to her difficulty, or determined to make a connection. Please let this be about Luke. Keep him safe.
Suddenly, the crackling stopped and there was moment of clarity. The voice continued on midsentence, “…and I’m ready to take some degree of responsibility for this. In fact, Regan, I want to talk to you about that other thing. You know, that incident…wasn’t your fault at all, Regan…”
Regan shook her head. The pieces of the puzzle didn’t match up. The voice was undoubtedly Rick’s, but what was he rambling on about? “Rick? What’s going on? Have you seen Luke?”
Her pulse raced so heavily through her veins that she could feel it on the outside. Her heart pounded in her ears as she awaited a favorable response.
But the static took over the line again. He must be on his cell phone, and not in a good location. Go outside! Get a clearer reception, then come back and tell me you have Luke, and he’s safe and sound.
“Rick? Hold on. Can you hear me? I can’t hear you. You need to get a better line.”
But his voice droned on, “…he’s going to be fine, Regan. But I feel guilty that it happened in the first place. I didn’t push him…crackle, crackle…but I can see the mistakes I’ve made. I need to try harder. I see that now. Not just with him, but with you, too.”
What was he talking about? Did he have Luke?
“Rick, please. Can you hear me?”
She spoke succinctly, in case he was having trouble hearing her, too. “You’re going in and out. I can’t hear you well. I’m worried about Luke. I haven’t seen him since late this morning. Is he there with you?”
She was the Titanic, and he was their last hope at radioing a nearby ship before they sunk underneath the icy waves, leaving their normal, sane lives behind forever. But the only thing she heard in response was static, with an occasional break of Rick’s voice, “…and … yes … be okay.”
She hung on the line, hoping beyond futile hope that it would clear again, and she could actually communicate with him. Ask him about Luke—where he was, was he safe. But it never happened, and eventually, the connection ended and she was left with a buzzing, empty line.
She hung up the phone, grabbed her coat and left.