14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Imani Boudareaux
"Elowen Briar will be the death of me."
Istare at the screen of my phone like I can use the Force to make Elowen call me back. It stays dark in my hand. The last thing I had actually heard from Elowen was a text from almost two hours ago.
One new message:
From: Elowen:
Car broke down. Phone dying. Call you back in a sec. Think some guy is coming over to help.
Then, an hour later, one missed call that had lasted only a few seconds before she gave up. Nothing since.
I hit her name again. She loves to keep me in fight or flight. That brat. The call goes straight to voicemail.
“El, come on,” I whisper into the empty air. “Pick up the damn phone.” I wait through the beep even though I know she won’t pick up. “It’s me. Again. Please, call when you get this. Even if it’s four in the morning. I don’t care. Just call me, Elowen.”
I hang up and toss my phone onto the sofa cushion beside me.
It bounces a little, glowing with the missed call log, like it was mocking me for trying again.
I stand up, unable to sit still. Pacing helps sometimes, but not tonight though.
I walk from the kitchen to the living room, then to the front windows.
I watch the empty street as if Elowen might suddenly appear on the sidewalk, waving, telling me her phone really had died. Here I am! See, totally safe!
But, she hadn’t shown up. And she would never let her phone die unless something was actually wrong.
Or a disaster occurred, maybe? There are people who live their lives at one percent.
Elowen is not one of them. She always has a charger in her bag, one in her car, one in her pocket if she could fit it.
For her phone to die meant her night had already gone awry.
If her phone is dead, she’s risking a missed patient call.
She always keeps that thing on standby in case she needs to turn into a hotline.
She is so admirable in every way and always selflessly sacrificing.
I press my forehead to the cool screen of glass for a moment, closing my eyes. “Where are you, El?” My phone buzzes and I nearly jump out of my skin. I snatch myself off the sofa, hoping it’s her, and feel my stomach drop when I see the name on the screen. Just Dad. David Boudreaux.
I inhale, hold it, release, then answer. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, bug,” he says, his voice warm with that end of the day softness he always has. “Just calling to say goodnight. I know you’re probably writing up some paperwork or watching some spooky documentary. Hopefully not one that will give you nightmares. The movie, not the paperwork.”
I drop back onto the sofa and rub my forehead. “Not watching anything spooky tonight.”
“Oh? Should I check the thermostat and see if hell froze over?”
Despite everything, I let out a weak laugh. “Not funny.”
“It was a little funny,” he says. Then, he takes a pause for a moment. “You sound off, pumpkin. Everything alright?”
My teeth work at the inside of my bottom lip. I glance at the phone screen again, even though I know Elowen’s name isn’t going to magically appear. “I’m fine, Dad.”
A beat later he says, “Imani.”
I sink deeper into the sofa as if it might save me from the hounding I might receive.
Then, I finally break. “Elowen’s car broke down earlier and her phone was dying.
She tried calling me once, but the call dropped before I could pick up.
I haven’t heard from her since and it has been literally hours. ”
Dad hums carefully, the way he always does when he’s trying to piece together information before reacting. “Did she say where she was?”
Elowen is like the sister I never had, which makes her another daughter for my Dad to inherit. She’s always been the missing piece for our family. Her being around has always felt right, like it was meant to be.
He almost had a daughter shortly after my parents’ divorce.
Alta, his girlfriend at the time, was involved in a car accident.
She didn’t make it, nor did their baby. I like to think Elowen came around at just the right point and filled that void as the girl who was supposed to make it here and never did.
An angel disguised as a five foot something brunette with a heart cold as ice, but also incredibly inviting.
“No. She just said her car broke down. That’s all the info I have at the moment,” I muster.
“Could be a dead zone out there,” he offers. “Or, she found someone to help with the car and just forgot to update you.”
Elowen? Asking for help? No shot.
“Maybe,” I said, though the word felt hollow. Elowen would never just forget. Especially not when she knew I would worry.
“Have you checked her location?”
I swallow. “It won’t load. It says, unable to locate or not updated on my end.”
“That sounds like her phone just died, pumpkin. I know you’re anxious, but the phone dying theory doesn’t sound too far off base. Her location doesn’t always refresh even when her phone is working. We know this.”
I sigh and press my eyes shut. “I know.”
“You thinking about going out to drive around and look for her?” He always knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Maybe.”
“Don’t do anything reckless,” he says gently.
“If she is on the side of the road somewhere waiting for a tow, you driving around at night stressed out with nothing but intuition won’t help her any more than if you weren’t looking at all.
Take a breath. If you don’t hear from her by morning, then we can both figure something out.
For tonight, try to relax. She’s a smart girl. She’ll call when she can.”
I nod in agreement, even though he can’t see it. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“And if you need me to come over and distract you with terrible dad jokes, I can be there in ten. Technically, twenty because I would have to warm the car up.”
“No, Dad, I’m alright. I promise.”
Another soft pause from Dad. “Alright. I’ll behave.”
I finally lean back and push a pillow behind me. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” he says. “I worry about you. I’m pretty sure that’s always been part of the job description.”
I smile faintly. “You do a good job at it. Maybe… too good of a job?”
“I’m aware,” he replies, a hint of pride in his voice.
“Now, before I let you go, the important question from our convo from dinner the other night. Still not got an eye on anyone? I met a pretty cool cat at the grocery store today. He said he’s in school to be an electrician.
Sound interesting? Anyone who’s not terrible for you will work, right? ”
“Dad,” I groan. “Really?”
“What? A father can’t ask? You’re grown, but that doesn’t mean I stop trying to help you out when you need it. I used to be a pretty good wing man. Plus, I like knowing what’s going on in your life!”
There’s a moment of silence. The ceiling fan continues to spin and I begin debating whether or not I should take it down with my bare hands.
Every little movement or sound is too much for me on top of being hounded about my dating life by my dad, of all people.
I grab the Charizard Pokemón blanket off the back of the sofa and wrap myself up in it.
“There’s no one and I’m not interested,” I say quickly, too hastily.
“Uh-huh,” he replies, obviously unconvinced. “You said that faster than you used to tell me you didn’t eat the last slice of cake left on the table.”
“I never ate the last slice of cake, dumbass. That was you.” I chuckle.
“Language, Mon-Mon, but I plead the fifth,” he says. “And, you’re avoiding the question!”
I lean my head back on the sofa. “Ugh. I’m serious. No one. I’m too busy. And the last guy I talked to vanished like he joined a witness protection program. I don’t have time to entertain boys. Plus, I don’t know how many times I have to explain that I am fully capable of dating without a wingman.”
“Maybe he did,” Dad jokes. “Maybe you’re dating men with dangerous lives you know nothing about. Should I be concerned? I believe this warrants even more concern over the topic, pumpkin.”
“No,” I say under a dry laugh. “There’s no danger and definitely no mystery guys going undercover despite our budding relationship.”
Dad hums. “Alright, alright. I’ll drop it. For now…” He makes ghostly, eerie noises across the phone frequency.
I roll my eyes, even though a smile tugs a little at my mouth. “Goodnight, Dad.”
“Goodnight, bug. Text me if you hear from Elowen. And breathe. Everything will be okay. Do a few jazz hands and call it a night.”
“I will,” I say, though I’m not sure I even believe it. “Love you.”
“Love you too, Mon-mon.”
The call ends with a soft click and I stare at the wall for a moment before lifting the phone again.
My thumb hovers over Elowen’s name. I’m not calling her again.
I’m stressed out enough as is. She’ll be listening to my voicemails for the next century if I try again.
She’ll hear the desperation in my voice if she does listen to them, and I would be the one inducing a panic attack for her this time.
I open her location instead. The spinning circle tries to load, flickers, and inevitably fails. A message appears across the LED face. Last location unavailable. Unable to connect. I try again. Same thing.
“Come on,” I whisper. “Give me something.”
But the little circle keeps spinning in that useless, taunting way and then freezes completely. I set the phone facedown on my lap, my pulse thudding louder than the quiet night around me.
Something is wrong. Something big has happened. I can feel it.