Some Things Are Just Meant To Be

umming that matched the frantic beat of my own heart. Outside, the world was

oom, to the sight of my mother clutching her

," I said, my voice tight with a pa

etached sort of calm that offered no comfort. "All our units are delayed,

ifying quiet between my mother' s gasps for air

My thumb hovered over Sarah' s name. My wife.

e she picked up. The background was noisy, fil

y hear you." Her voice was brig

t. "She' s having a heart attack. I' m at her hou

ng to someone else. Then she was back. "Oh my god, Ethan. That' s awfu

, Sarah.

ey. I promise

ld my mother' s hand, telling her that Sarah was on her way, that everything would be okay. I stare

ever

vements efficient and grim. But I already knew. I saw it in the way they l

was

r away. The rain had softened to a drizzle, but the storm inside

t straight to voicemail. Her phone was off. My desperatio

lock in the hall, each tick marking another second of my new, empty reality. My ph

seeing this?

s a screenshot. M

table, a glass of red wine in her hand. She was laughing, her head thrown back, a wide, carefree smile on her f

s in advance. The timestamp on the picture was from an hour after I had called her. While my mot

smug sentence: "Some thin

phone. The turned-off phone. The broken promise. It w

the edge of the table. The grief for my mother was a raw,

essage. I typed two sentences, my thumbs movi

r. Don' t c

one rang. It was Sarah. Her voic

t, Ethan? What are

Sarah." The wor

. "Oh. Oh, honey, I' m so

ark Wilson?" I asked, my

was a work thing, just for

ir from my lungs. She thought I was that stupid. After

he pictur

le

s over," I said

dark screen of my phone. The grief was a physical weight, crushing my chest. But underneath it, a new feeling was