Arizona
Call log
7.00 am Hey you left early- called into surgery? Let me know when you're free later ? x
8.00am You're not here and your name isn't on the board, what's going on? Call me x
8.45am Missed Call
9.30am Missed Call
12.37am Missed Call
12.40am This isn't funny Eliza. Call me now
13.30pm Missed Call
13.33pm If you don't want to talk at least let me know you're ok. Please I care about you please let me know you're safe x
The surgeries I had today were tough. I'm normally good at switching everything else off but in the back of my head there was a constant hum of concern; a torturous ear worm writhing in my mind. After I came out of my five hour surgery and still had nothing from her, the hum had turned into a roar.
Fine I thought. You want to ignore me- ignore this.
I rang. No response. And again. No response.
I kept ringing 3 times, 5 times, 7.
I wasn't angry anymore, as the number of missed calls crept up my anger ebbed until I was just gripped by cold panic. What if this is really bad?
My shift was finished but I wasn't leaving- how could I go home where the last thing she'd done there was shatter before heading out into god knows what?
I gave it one last try.
20.00pm Eliza if I haven't heard from you in an hour I'm going to the police. Please just let me know where you are x
I checked again that the volume was set to max. It had to be the 50th time Id checked and even if it was off I was so desperate for anything to come through I'd have heard a pin drop. I put it on the desk and try to distract myself with charts, every few minutes or so my eyes were magnetically pulled to the wall clock and its ominous countdown.
It's 8.55 – still nothing. When I sent it I wasn't sure I would go to the police. I just wanted to get a response from her. I know what they're going to say. A grown woman who often moves around the country, left after crying post sex? I'm sure the only concern they're going to have is for my skills. Still I have to try. Its hard to know exactly when 24 hours has been what with her leaving when I'm asleep but the sheets were like ice I know she's been gone a long time.
Psyching myself up for what I'm sure is going to be a deeply awkward experience I grab my coat. Finally, at 8.55 a sound sweeter than any music right now comes with my phone's text alert.
Thank god
There's no words it's just a zip code, and one that looks unfamiliar. Hurrying to my car I input my hard earned missive from Eliza into the GPS and follow its instructions, desperately hoping she'll be there at the end.