Come get me, Angel

My fingers were aching, the result of being torn and chewed up from pure nerves. It was a bad habit, but one that gave me the distraction I so desperately craved. It felt like I had been sitting here for days when in reality it had only been a few hours. A few hours since the funeral, since her funeral.

I didn’t expect it.

Only a week ago we were planning a trip to California. Ready to bask in the sun's light by each other's side, to feel the freedom and recklessness of young love and happiness.

But how could I? It wasn’t like the love of my life dying was something I would plan for daily. Maybe it would pass my thoughts once in a while, a major what if, but it could never prepare you for the real thing.

I could still feel the pain in my stomach from when I got the call from the hospital.

“Hello?” I said, unsure of the unfamiliar number.

“Yes, is this Lorelai Davis?” The voice on the other line dripped with a tone that only made cause for worry.

“Yes this is, can I ask who this is?”

“We’re calling about Evelyn Brooks, you’re her emergency contact.”

My stomach dropped, twisting and turning as fear found home within. I had just seen her yesterday, laughing and smiling without a care in the world.

“What happened?”

There was a long pause after that, and then…

“She was in a car accident. I’m sorry to say this but she didn’t make it.”

It all happened so fast after that, I didn’t have time to process the fact that she was gone. That was until I got home, surrounded by the two things she supposedly left for me if she were to ever die. My chest stung at the realness of this all, eyes flickering between the items.

A black duffel bag I hadn’t opened, and a little black notebook with my name scribbled across the front in her messy script. I had a sick feeling I knew what was inside but I didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want to think that she planned for something like this, but I knew that inside would be a goodbye letter.

At the same time, it made perfect sense considering the type of person she was. Always living on the edge, a free spirit who saw life as the inevitable journey to death. I could almost hear her words as if she were here.

‘If I’m going to die one day then I need to live each moment to its fullest. That way I’ll know I'm dying with no regrets.’

She would want to make sure she had a chance to say what she wanted if something ever did happen. I closed my eyes for a moment, hoping to let the overwhelming grief pass so I could focus on opening the book. When I opened my eyes again my hands were already reaching for the small notebook, pulling it to lay in my lap. My numb fingertips tapped along the cover, tracing over my name before finally opening it. Tears welled in my eyes as I read.

Hey angel,

If you’re reading this I guess something went wrong. Or maybe you found this somewhere in my closet and are wondering what it is. I’m hoping for the latter but I know you’d never be able to reach the top shelf. So I’d like to start by saying I’m sorry. I know I always talked about death like something we shouldn’t be afraid of but I just want you to know that it all changed the moment I knew I’d be spending the rest of my life with you. I was always a little more careful when it came to doing something I shouldn’t, and I suddenly started to care about the aftermath because it was you I'd be going home to. You made me excited to grow old, to sit on a porch drinking iced tea while watching our grandchildren play in the yard. I was ready for that future, and I’m sorry I’ll never get to experience it with you. But guess what? Go to the middle of the notebook.

Wait, what?

I frowned with a tear-streaked face at the sudden ending of the note. The instructions were clear but almost unbelievable. I went as far as rereading the note to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.

My hand moved along the bottom edge of the notebook, hoping to feel the obvious split in the book where the binding could be seen. My finger hooked further into the notebook, opening it. Immediately my eyes found a place atop more of Evelyn's scribble. It seemed more frantic than the last.

I doubt they’d be willing to read far enough to make it to this point. They probably already think they won. I should probably start by saying I’m not dead.

My heart stopped.

I know, I know. They probably had you attend a funeral without ever seeing the body. And you probably never even had to go to the hospital much less plan the funeral. This is going to be hard to believe but I’ve been taken, and am currently writing this for you in a cell somewhere far from home. You’re probably wondering who I've been taken by and why. Or you might not be believing this at all but regardless getting into it right now would be like opening a can of worms set to immediately explode. Plus I’m running out of time. If you haven’t opened the duffle bag you probably should. Remember everything I taught you. And I’ll hopefully see you soon. I meant everything I said.

Love Evelyn.

Suddenly everything started to piece together. It was true that I never got to actually see her dead body and the funeral planning happened without a second thought. It all seemed so staged. I couldn’t even think as I grabbed the duffle bag, ripping open the zipper.

My jaw dropped at the sight of what had to have been almost twenty thousand dollars packed neatly inside the black fabric, along with a black gun that had my name engraved on the handle. Laid neatly on top was a piece of paper. I lifted it from the bag, trying to ignore what the money and weapon must have meant no matter how much my heart seemed to grow with hope. All that was written on it was a few coordinates and the names of people I didn’t know. Beneath it all read,

Come get me, Angel.