Last Night

Heather rechecked her phone, hot tears blurring her vision. Her heart sank, and she felt nauseous when she saw he still hadn't called or texted. She'd been trying to reach him for hours- his phone went straight to voicemail every time.

When Jeff mentioned the new girl at work, Heather became suspicious. When he started "Getting out for happy hour with some work people," she was positive something was going on. Normally, he would've just as soon remove his own appendix than hang out with "work people."

Washing down two Valium with the rest of the chardonnay, she got into bed with her book, trying to distract herself until she passed out.

The next morning, she woke with a start. The phone was ringing.

"Jeff!?"

"Heather?" her sister replied carefully.

"Where were you last night?" Heather whimpered.

The silence that followed was deafening.

"Answer me!!" she cried, rage welling in her throat. "Where were you?!"

"I knew you weren't ready to be on your own yet. Sit tight."

Heather ranted, throwing glass and turning over furniture. That son of a bitch was never coming back.

Someone pounded on the door. "Heather?!"

It burst open, and she shrieked like an animal, throwing herself at the huge man in scrubs standing with her sister. He gripped her in a bear hug; she felt the prick of a needle, then blissful sleep.

On the way to the hospital, Heather drifted in and out of consciousness.

Her sister and the nurse spoke quietly in the front seat.

"He passed away two years ago in an accident," she sniffled. The man handed her a tissue. "She's been reliving that night ever since. I'm not sure she'll ever understand why he didn't come home that night. She still thinks he ran off with another woman."