Little Do We Know(30)

I waited to see if he had more to say. After a few moments of silence on his end, I typed back.

Hannah: You should tell her that.

Aaron: I know…I’ve tried…

Hannah: But you love her?

He didn’t reply for a long time.

Aaron: Yeah, I do.

Aaron: But…

Hannah: ???

Aaron: Things are changing, I guess.

I typed, Like what? but before I had a chance to hit SEND, he started replying again.

Aaron: I have no idea why I’m telling you all this, btw.

Aaron: Totally inappropriate

Hannah: No it’s not.

Aaron: I shouldn’t be telling my student/boss’s daughter about my relationship problems.

Aaron: I’m blaming my hermit/friendless status.

Hannah:

Hannah: You can talk to me.

Aaron: Thanks.

Aaron: Don’t mention it to your dad though, okay?

Hannah: Why would I tell my dad?

Aaron: IDK…you two are close.

We used to be. We weren’t so much anymore. It had been months since I confided in him, and given our current situation, I didn’t see that changing anytime soon.

Hannah: I don’t tell him everything.

I flipped around and looked at the clock on the microwave: 12:03. I was about to type a reply, when something outside the window caught my eye: a red car drove straight through the intersection without stopping at the sign. It rolled slowly toward my house, until it stopped with a jerk when it hit the curb.

I leaned over the kitchen sink, craning my neck, trying to get a better view.

Red Jetta. Late arrival, but it was Luke’s car. No question.

I watched and waited, ready to duck down low as soon as he cut the engine and stepped out, but nothing happened. His headlights were still on, steam rising from the tailpipe. And I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like his head was resting on the steering wheel.

My phone vibrated, but I didn’t pick it up. I was too busy watching Luke, waiting for him to move. I checked the time on the microwave: 12:07.

Aaron: Meet in the sound booth after services?

I reached for my phone again and typed a reply to Aaron.

Hannah: Something’s happening outside.

Aaron: You okay?

Hannah: Yeah…it’s weird.

Hannah: My neighbor’s boyfriend sneaks into her room at night and he always parks in front of my kitchen window.

It seemed odd to call Emory “my neighbor,” but it was easier than going into the specifics.

Hannah: He pulled up and stopped the car, but he’s not getting out.

Hannah: I can see him.

Hannah: His head is on the steering wheel.

Hannah: I think something’s wrong with him.

I opened the window and listened for sound. There was nothing.

Hannah: Hold on.

Leaving the phone on the counter, I ran to my room and peeled the curtain to one side, expecting to see Emory standing in the open window, waiting for Luke like she always did. But her shade was lowered and that faint bit of light still illuminated the edges.

I grabbed my sweatshirt off the back of my desk chair, pulling it over my head as I returned to the kitchen window.

Luke’s car was still there. The lights were still on. The engine was still running. And he still hadn’t moved. The clock on the microwave read 12:13. Ten minutes had passed since his car rolled to a stop. My phone chirped.

Aaron: What’s going on?

Hannah: BRB.

Without even thinking, I opened the front door and stepped outside. The late night air stung my throat.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets and quickened my steps, scanning the neighborhood to be sure I was alone. Then I stepped onto the grass. The blades tickled my feet and the dew seeped in between my toes as I cupped my hands to my face and peered into the passenger window.

Luke’s eyes were closed, his head was resting against the driver’s-side window, and his arms hung limp at his sides.

I knocked on the glass. “Luke!” I whisper-yelled.

He didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t even flinch.

“Luke!” I yelled louder. I knocked harder.

Nothing.

Emory.

I reached for my phone to text her, but then realized it was still sitting on the counter. I knocked on the window again, but he still didn’t budge, so I opened the door as slowly as I could, reaching inside to balance his weight and push him back into the seat as I did.

“Luke. Wake up.” I shook him. “Luke. You have to wake up.”

I reached in front of him, cut the engine, and turned the headlights off. When I breathed in, I gagged. The car reeked with this horrible, sour smell, and I looked down on the passenger seat. There was puke. Everywhere. When I looked back at Luke, I realized it was all over one side of his jacket, too.

He didn’t look hurt. No cuts. No bruises. I crouched down, and that’s when I noticed something. His jacket had fallen open, and his T-shirt was raised up on his left side. I slowly lifted it higher.

His skin was swollen under his rib cage, and his whole side was dark purple, almost black. I touched it lightly, but he didn’t react at all. And then I brought my fingertip to his neck and felt for a pulse. I couldn’t find one.

I came in close to his ear. “Luke. It’s Hannah. I need you to listen to me, okay?” I watched his eyes for movement, but saw nothing. “I’m going to get help. I’ll be right back.”