Page 31 of A Heart On A Sleeve

eighteen

Sam

The Mysterious Disappearance of Olive Bowman

Checking the time on my phone, seven forty-five, I pace the small front stoop searching the street for signs of Olive.

She said she would be here, and while I know she could have gotten tied up at work or maybe she was taking longer to get ready, something feels off.

I have a sinking feeling that she’s not coming.

I could go check on her, make sure nothing bad has happened. But what if she shows up here and thinks I stood her up? Leaving now is risky. But so is waiting and not being there if something terrible has happened. Think, think. Where could she be? Ariella!

Unlocking my phone, I navigate to my contacts, hovering over her name for a second before hitting the call button. I hope I don’t live to regret involving Olive’s friend, but what choice do I have. I wait impatiently while the phone rings not once, not twice, but three times.

“Sam? Is this a butt dial?” The confusion is clear in Ariella’s tone.

“Nope. Are you with Olive?” Straight to the point, if she is, then I know I’ve been stood up. My heart races. The sound beats in my ears. I sit down on the top step so I don’t keel over from my nerves.

“No? I thought you had a date at”—there’s a pause on the other end—“seven. She’s never late, Sam. Where is she?” Why is Ariella asking me? If I knew, I wouldn’t have called her.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. She hasn’t shown. And look, if she’s standing me up, just tell me. But I’m actually worried here.”

“She’s not!”

“Okay, well that’s good, but where is she? Can you track her phone?” It’s invasive and I hate asking her to do it, but isn’t this the exact reason that location feature exists?

“Yeah, I can. But, Sam . . . if she’s at home, I think I should be the one to go talk to her. I don’t want you showing up in case she had a change of heart,” she says, her tone full of warning.

“Yeah, okay. That makes sense,” I relent.

“Good. I’m pulling up the app now. Give me just a second . . . What the fuck?” She swears and my body erupts in nervous goose bumps.

“Where is she? What’s wrong? Why are you cussing?” I’m terrified and annoyed all at the same time. Just tell me already, put me out of my misery.

“Olive’s phone is at the cemetery. It’s showing she’s there and I just . . . Why would she be there?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll meet you.”

I hang up and race down the stairs and off my porch, nearly tripping twice on the way down. What if someone took her? What if she is hurt? Why would she even go into the cemetery? I knew I should have picked her up!

The Mage Hollow Cemetery is only a few blocks from my house, and I find myself crossing under the metal arch in record time.

It’s dark, and I don’t know what the situation is, so I slow my pace.

As I take a few tentative steps forward, shining my phone’s flashlight back and forth down the rows of final resting spots, Ariella steps up beside me, heaving breaths.

“Jesus, I haven’t run that fast in, maybe ever?” She puts her hands on her hips. “Anything yet?”

“I just got here. Can you pull up her location and see how close we are?”

Ariella looks at her phone then points toward the center of the cemetery.

We don’t run. I want to with every fiber of my being, but I don’t know what’s happened, and I don’t want to sneak up on anyone.

As we get about halfway to where Olive is, or at least her phone is, we spot her bag.

Abandoned on the ground, movies and snacks spilling out.

Ariella sucks in a breath beside me. “Shit.”

“What?” I snap at her.

“That’s a thousand-dollar custom bag. No way she dropped that or even dared to set it on the ground unless she was forced.” Her voice shakes. I can tell she’s getting worried.

“Let’s stay calm.” I’m trying to keep it together, to ignore the voice in my head telling me this is very, very bad.

We keep walking until Ariella says, “We should be right on top of it.”

I shine my light back and forth on the ground beneath us, searching for her phone.

“Oh my God, Sam.” Ariella takes off running to the left. I can’t make out where she’s going until she crumbles to the ground, letting out a thick wail.

I sprint after her, Olive’s slight body splayed on the ground in front of me. I don’t even realize I’m calling the emergency line until an operator’s voice sounds aloud on speaker. “Mage Hollow 9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

I shove the phone at Ariella, dropping to my knees and running my hand down Olives’ face.

She’s out cold. I lean closer to assess if she has any injuries.

Carefully brushing hair out of her face, I see it.

She hit her head—or maybe someone hit her?

I’m not sure, but there is sticky red blood smeared across her face and a small, maybe two-inch gash on her forehead.

Ariella tells the operator that we need an ambulance, explaining exactly where we are. She’s shouting responses to an endless slew of questions, demanding someone get here as fast as possible.

I lie flat on my belly, cautiously putting my lips to Olive’s ear. “I’m here, Olive. Ari and I are getting you help. Please be okay, baby. I need you to be okay.”

The logical side of me knows that she is probably okay since the cut is no longer gushing; I can see it’s more of an ooze. But I don’t know how long she’s been out or if she has other injuries. The whirring sound of an ambulance brings me a sense of relief and dread.

“What’s the situation here?” a paramedic asks Ariella.

“We, uh, we don’t know. She was supposed to be going on a date with Sam but didn’t show. We tracked her phone and this is . . .”

“Sam O’Reilly, sir.” I stand up to introduce myself. “We found her like this. It looks like she hit her head.” He eyes me suspiciously but moves closer to Olive, kneeling beside her and checking her pulse.

“She’s got a strong pulse. Probably knocked herself out, but we’ll do a full workup on our way to MH Memorial. Tina, get the backboard and stretcher,” the paramedic barks at his partner.

“Can we ride with you?” I ask him.

“Only one of you can come in the rig. Name’s Johns, by the way. John Johns.” He extends his gloved hand to me while he waits for Tina to cart everything he needs over from the ambulance.

“Uh, nice to meet you, John. Please take care of her.” My mind is stuck on his name. Whose parents would do such a thing? Ariella and I make eye contact. I can tell from her smirk she’s thinking the same thing.

John Johns and Tina (last name unknown) carefully place a neck brace on Olive before turning her over onto the backboard and hoisting her up onto the stretcher.

I keep thinking she’s going to wake up with all the jostling, but nothing.

Olive is out, completely lifeless, and my stomach is officially lodged in my throat.

Turning to Ariella, I say, “You go with them. I’ll grab my truck and meet you over there.”

“No, Sam. You should go. She’s going to need things from home, and I’m not sure she would forgive me if I let you rifle through her panty drawer in search of pajamas.”

“We can worry about that later. I can run faster than you. Just go, I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

With a nod, Ariella races to the ambulance and disappears inside.

As soon as she’s gone from view, I run. I have to get to the hospital as quickly as humanly possible.

I don’t want Olive to wake up and wonder where I am.

Then again, maybe she wouldn’t expect me to be there?

I’m hooked on her, but this thing between us is still new.

Shaking off the thoughts as my feet hit the uneven sidewalk, I focus on what I do know: I care for her, more deeply than I should. The paramedic didn’t seem overly panicked about her condition. She’s in good hands.

I reach my truck in no time, hop in, fire up the ignition, and peel out of my driveway.

Hospitals all have the same smell. It’s a mixture of bodily fluids and bleach.

The scent tickles my nostrils as I approach the circular desk in the emergency room and step up to the counter.

A nurse with silver hair tied in a topknot with a pen says, “Do you need to be seen?” She eyes me suspiciously.

Most people her age do, given my tattoos.

“No, ma’am. I’m looking for Olivia Bowman. She came by ambulance.” I turn to search the waiting room for Ariella but don’t spot her.

“Are you family?”

“I’m her boyfriend.” It’s a bold statement. Certainly not one we have discussed, but this situation calls for a little exaggeration. I think.

“You’ll have to take a seat. Her family is with her. I’ll need to check if she is accepting visitors.” Her family? What? How?

As I’m wondering what the nurse means, an automatic door opens into the ER and Ariella calls out, “Sam, over here.”

I don’t wait for the nurse to confirm I can go. Instead, I walk swiftly over to Ariella and slide into the hallway before the door closes again. I can faintly hear the nurse yelling for me to wait.

“Where is she?” I ask, plopping down in a tattered leather chair next to Ariella.

She points into the room straight ahead. The curtains are drawn. All I can make out is six pairs of feet crowded around the wheels of a hospital bed.

“Did they tell you—”

“No. They haven’t said anything. She came to for a few minutes on the ride here. But nothing she said made any sense. Did you two have a fight?” Ariella crosses her arms and sits back, slouching against the leather chair.

“What? No? Why would you ask that?” I stand and begin to pace, but she stops me, coming over and leading me back into the chair with a shove.

“She was begging you to forgive her. And you know, it doesn’t really all add up.

You were supposed to be with her. What would she need to apologize for?

” Ariella asks, tension radiating off of her.

It warms my heart to see her being protective.

My girl needs good friends in her corner, and Ariella seems to be the best.