I’ve been asking myself the same question. “I don’t know, but something tells me it’s not for the altruistic good of all mankind.” A fewmore feet and traffic in my new lane screeches to a halt as vehicles in the one I was just in begin rolling. “Fuck me.”
“Breathe, Em.”
“We only have two hours!”
She looks at the time. “Just under two now, actually.”
I growl in frustration and stress. “Since we’re asking all the terrible questions, what do you think they meant when they said it would be catastrophic for all of us?” I ask. “Like, in awe might all be facing some economic hardshipkind of way… or anif you know what’s good for you because you might be run over by a carkind of way?” I laugh nervously and glance over at her. “Not like that… right?”
Annie closes her eyes before looking over at me. “You know, there are some things I don’t want the answer to. Such as: what my hair looks like from the back, or the ingredients in Diet Coke.Orwhat Lorraine meant when she said that.” Annie presses Luca’s number and brings the phone to her ear. “What I do know is that if we’re lucky enough to not get whacked, I’ll need to find a new job. I have dogs to feed.” She ends the call. “Straight to voicemail.”
I groan, trying to see the end of the traffic nightmare in front of us. “Where could he be?”
I drop my purse by the front door, calling out to him. “Luca?”
Honey bounds from the bedroom, and I bend to love on her a little. I’d heard that dogs can decrease human anxiety by causing increases in oxytocin, but I’d never experienced it firsthand until Honey came into our home. Doggo kisses are straight-up Xanax. I swear by it. “Hey, baby girl. Where’s Luca, huh?”
Annie comes in behind me and Honey moves to her excitedly. “Is he here?” Annie asks.
“I don’t hear him.” With my stomach dropping to my feet, I walk through the house, checking the other rooms and calling for Luca as I go. I head back to the kitchen and straight to check the garage. Crash was supposed to bring Luca’s truck over, but it’s not here.
“Emery.” Annie looks up at me from where she’s sitting on the kitchen floor, Honey in her lap. I follow her gaze to where the drawers of Luca’s desk are open, most of the contents on top. “Was he looking for something?” she asks.
“His memories have been triggered by something he was doing at the time; he was probably hoping it would happen again.” I close one of the drawers and motion over my shoulder toward the garage. “His truck isn’t here, but he hasn’t driven anywhere yet as far as I know. Maybe he went for a walk?”
“Without the dog?”
“Maybe?” My confidence feels forced, but I’m shoving bright optimism into my body the way I might stuff a doll with fluffy cotton. It isn’t working entirely; ifI’mafraid to let Honey out of my sight, it’s hard to imagine Luca going anywhere without her.
Ten minutes pass, and then twenty. I open Find My iPhone again, but his location saysnot found. After a half hour of pacing the house, Luca’s voicemail is full, and I must admit he hasn’t just gone for a stroll. I decide to call Crash.
“Em!” he sings. “Where you been, Loca?”
Normally, this would make me laugh. Right now, I barely process the reference. “Hey, is Luca with you by chance?”
“Me? Nope. I haven’t seen him since this afternoon.”
“You talked to him today?”
“Yeah, I stopped by earlier.”
“Did he mention needing to do anything? Did you drop off his truck?”
“Yeah, left it in the garage. He was waiting for you to get back from work or something.”
I sit down at the desk with a resigned sigh. “Fuck.”
“I mean… you’re not worried or anything, are you?”
I laugh despite myself. Luca is an adult and can go wherever he wants. But he was also a dead adult, and I need to prove that in the next hour and a half. “Yes, Crash, I am very fucking worried. Luca isn’t here but he didn’t take Honey. He isn’t answering his phone, and I can’t even find his location. He’s just gone.”
Crash goes quiet on the other end. Finally, he says, “Okay, maybe I know something?”
My pulse ticks up, and I stand on instinct. “What do you mean?”
“When he was going through his desk, he found some papers and asked me if I knew about them.”
I look down at said desk, seeing the scattered folders and detritus with new eyes. Luca is so fastidious about organization and record-keeping I used to joke that he kept a label maker in a holster. But one of the files, the one on top, is noticeably blank of any label. Icy tendrils of dread climb up my chest as I open it. A sob rises in my throat, clogging my inhale, making me suck in a jagged breath as I see my name and Luca’s and the wordsdivorce representation. “Luca was going to leave me?”
