June
Water dripped somewhere in the distance, steady and irritating. Voices floated around outside, blurred into background noise. None of it mattered. Not compared to the one thing I wanted to hear.
My husband's footsteps.
I pressed closer to the window. The flowers Mark and I planted together brushed against the sill, filling the air with the faint scent of jasmine. I reached out and touched their petals. Soft. Real. Unlike the growing terror that he'd simply vanished.
Where was he? I have been waiting. The soup I prepared stayed cold on the table.
"Call Sarah," I said into my phone.
"Calling Sarah," the AI responded.
After a long buzzing, she finally answered.
"Hey, June."
"Hey. Have you seen Mark? Maybe he stopped by with your dog or… I don't know… football with Tyler?"
"Nope. Haven't seen him in a week." She paused. "Is something wrong?"
"I've been calling him nonstop. He isn't answering. I'm worried." I say, my voice trembling.
"Relax, doll," she said between bites — probably an apple. "He's probably out drinking."
"Mark doesn't drink," I muttered. "He only drinks water."
"Fine. Smoking then. Men either smoke or drink. It gotta be one of the two, right?"
"He doesn't smoke anymore. He quit because I hate the smell." I pointed out.
"Then he'll be back," she said gently. "He's a good guy."
"I'm going to look for him." I stated. "I'm worried that something bad has happened to him."
"And I'm coming with you," she said. A door opened on her end. "Can't lose my blind friend."
The doorbell rang minutes later. I wheeled myself toward it and opened the door.
"It hasn't even been twenty-four hours," she sighed. "We can't file a missing person report yet."
"But we can look," I said, already grabbing my cane, boots, and jacket. "Just support me." I took his picture with me as well in case someone saw him.
We went everywhere — cafés, parks, every place we'd ever gone together. Nothing. Not a trace. People say they have never seen him before. I can't believe that.
People looked at the photo like they'd never seen him and then at us and shook their heads like we are some lunatics.
But I knew him. I touched him. Slept beside him. I loved him. I even fucked him.
"You believe me, right?" I asked as we sat on a cold bench by the train station.
"Well…" she hesitated. "He always felt… weird. We never stayed for dinner. Maybe he ran away."
"He wouldn't leave without saying goodbye," I snapped.
"I believe you, June." She squeezed my shoulder. "We'll keep looking."
But that night, hope dissolved into dread. I couldn't sleep at all. I stayed up all night listening for familiar footsteps and that soft baritone saying he got caught up in traffic except it never came.
By dawn, I was at the police station ready to file my report.
The officer studied the picture, then my face.
"What's his full name?"
"Mark Lawson. He's my husband."
He typed for a while. "The database shows no one with that name."
"Check again," I demanded. "Please."
He tried. Again. And again. Then he sighed.
"How did you two meet?"
"In the park. I was lost. He helped me with my navigation problem. He said he had no family but our marriage worked."
"No marriage certificate?"
"We married legally," I insisted. "He keeps the documents. I have pictures."
"Ma'am…" he exhaled. "You may have been duped."
"That's impossible." Panic crawled into my throat. "He never asked me for money — he provides for us."
"Then maybe he left because he couldn't handle your condition."
The words hit harder than any slap.
"He would never do that." I whispered.
"We'll see what we can do," he muttered — then tossed the report straight into the trash. I could hear the sharp thud of the paper into the trashcan. I sighed, tears threatening to fall as I picked up my bag and cane and walked away.
Days blurred together. A week and five days. And nothing, not even a peep. It was like he vanished into thin air.
Hope began to rot inside me. Nothing felt good anymore.
Sarah knocked on my door frantically and when I didn't answer, she turned the knob.
"You won't believe this!" Sarah burst in. "Good news!"
"What?" I muttered, drinking straight from a tequila bottle. I regard her with disinterest.
"I contacted someone about your case— she works with the CIA. She can help track him."
The bottle slipped from my hand and shattered. I got up, my eyes wide with renewed hope.
"He'll be found," Sarah whispered and hugged me. I couldn't contain my joy. I'll see him again.
I showered. Changed into a nice dress he got me. I tried to breathe. Hope comes alive in my chest again. I can finally breathe.
"I haven't taken my medication yet!" I yelled. "It's in the cabinet."
"This container?" Sarah asked.
"I guess. Mark sorts my pills." I shrugged. "He even made a divider so I can distinguish between one for my legs and for my eyes."
Silence. I dropped my toothbrush and listened for her footsteps.
"Babe…" her voice cracked. "This isn't medication for your eyesight."
"What?" I breathed out. I am confused right now.
"These aren't yours. They can damage eyesight and bones if taken long-term."
My heart stopped. I can't deny that Sarah is a pharmacist and she knows her job pretty well.
"He's been giving you the wrong drugs on purpose." She yelled.
The world tilted. Bile forms in my throat. I could taste the bitterness.
"He—Mark—he wouldn't—" I trembled, my hands clutching the sink tightly.
"He fucking did, June," she shouted. "He's been poisoning you."
I grabbed the chair as the realization crushed me. I let gravity pull me down to the floor.
My husband didn't disappear unintentionally.
He left me.