Page 20 of Her Unending Horizon

On the inside, I was pacing.

Every time I finished a page, I checked my phone. Every time I changed the water in my brush pen, I checked my phone. Every time I went to the bathroom, I checked my phone like an addict.

Nothing.

By day three, I’d gone from Maybe he’s busy to Did I say something wrong?

By day five, my brain had turned it into a full cinematic feature. I sat down at my dining room table, pushing boards away to do what my little OCD heart insisted on. I made a list. Why wasn’t Zarek calling?

* * *

I’d pushed too hard.

I hadn’t said enough.

I’d sounded too happy.

I hadn’t sounded happy enough.

He’d realized he was better off without me.

He’d met some gorgeous, emotionally stable, non-traumatized woman who liked camping and football and never cried in the frozen food aisle at the grocery store.

* * *

I threw down my pencil. Yeah, fun times inside my head.

On the seventh morning, I stood at my drawing table, staring at a half-inked panel of Seris walking alone through a ruined city, and realized I’d drawn her hands shaking.

My hands were steady.

My heart wasn’t.

“Okay,” I muttered to the Bristol board. “Enough, already.”

I wiped my inky fingers on an already-ruined rag, crossed the apartment, and picked up my phone from the arm of the couch where it had been sulking for days.

I hit Zarek’s contact before I could think better of it.

The call went straight to voicemail.

His recorded voice came on, familiar and calm. “Hey, it’s Zarek. Leave a message.”

My throat closed.

I hung up without saying anything.

“Coward.”

I paced. I made a smoothie I didn’t want and drank half of it before dumping the rest down the sink. I tried to go back to my drawing table, but every line looked wrong.

I could do this. I’d spent ten years with this man. He’d been my best friend since I’d been seven years old. I picked up my phone and called again. Voicemail. I closed my eyes and savored the sound of his voice.

“Hey Zarek, it’s me, Chloe.” Yeah, like he didn’t know that. Real smart. “I was wondering if you still wanted to come over. Trenda left a frozen lasagna that I could heat up… Anyway, call me.”

Trenda’s lasagna was the big guns. He had to call me back just for that.

But by dusk the next day, still nothing. Maybe he was on shift and there was a lot going on.