The waiting is over

Luka, RayMan, Jeffery and Renee never came back. It has been three months and two days, and not a word. Jordan, Julianne and I are just staring at each other, each day filled with hope. I clean the cabin with an obsession that no diagnosis can claim, Julianne watches every news channel she can find, and Jordan writes in his notebook. Writes and writes and writes.

At night we curl up on the little futon bed, synchronizing our breathing.

On August 17th, I flipped out, screaming, sad, furious.

"I want to go back" I was half laughing, half crying. "I know I hated it, but it was familiar, even if it was eroding any sense of what I was, who I am, whatever. I want to go back!'

"Peter" Jordan said in that calm voice that was sometimes so infuriating that I wondered how many Oxy he had stolen from the WME before we had left.

That was mean. Jordan has always been calm.

"I have a note from Frannie G., before she left," he said, holding out a tired scrap of paper.

"You talked to Frannie!" I yelled, "You talked to Frannie and did not tell me!"

"You still had hope, I did not want you to lose it."

He held it out.

It read,

"Beware the woman who cannot tie her own shoelaces, cannot find water as she stands in front of the river, has only tissues in her pockets. Beware."

"They ran into her", Jordan's eyes, Julianne turning away from the news, nodding slowly.

"Then we have to pack up and leave, right?"

"Yes." They spoke in tandem, and reluctantly I reached for my black pen.